


A Lifetime of Firsts

by RosevalleyNB



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Domestic Fluff, F/M, Family, Feel-good, Firsts, Humor, Light-Hearted, No War-AU, Romance, Through the Years
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-03
Updated: 2017-07-07
Packaged: 2018-04-02 16:46:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 22
Words: 116,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4067287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RosevalleyNB/pseuds/RosevalleyNB
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>There is a first time for everything. These are Katie and Marcus'. <br/>Snapshots of all the firsts in the lives and love of a spoilt boy and a somewhat silly girl.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. The first time they met, but can't remember. Their mothers do, though, and can't stop cackling about it.

**Author's Note:**

> Obviously, not mine. I just like to torture the characters created by JK Rowling for my own amusement. But rest assured, they like it. Promise.

It was in the early hours of a cold November morning in the magical settlement of Tinworth when three (and a half, never forget the half) year old Marcus Flint sat at the breakfast table with his father, scowling at the bowl of porridge before him. His nose scrunched up at the foul smell wafting from it as he prodded his too large spoon in the too thick gruel. This sure wasn’t how his mum usually made his breakfast.

 

In fact, the whole morning was vastly different from his usual routine. His mum still wasn’t home from her visit to their neighbours. Because of this, he hadn’t woken up to their ‘wake-up’ song, was forced to dress for the day before breakfast, and the worst of all, he had to eat this. All by himself. He wanted the sausages and eggs, and he wanted his mum to feed him with those silly noises.

 

“Daddy?” When his father, William Flint, slightly lowered his newspaper, Marcus held up his spoon in askance.

 

“You’re a big boy now, Marcus. You can eat by yourself,” was his surly reply before he disappeared behind the Prophet, shaking his head and muttering to himself.

 

Not satisfied with his father’s answer, Marcus’ scowl deepened and he dropped his spoon back in the bowl. His lower lip stuck out in a pout as he crossed his arms.

 

“I want my Mummy,” he demanded.

 

Will grumbled something along the lines of ‘we both do’, but didn’t bother with forming an intelligible reply. Like Marcus, he was having a god-awful day. Dealing with an overly demanding three-year-old so early in the morning wasn't a part of his daily routine, and it showed. Usually, his wife, Sally, dealt with their son for the better part of the morning until he'd woken up properly. This, in short, meant that he needed a pot of coffee first to build up enough patience to keep up with a very rambunctious little boy.

 

“Bring Mummy!” Marcus ordered when his father kept on ignoring him. There were a few things -well, a lot of things- he didn’t like and being ignored was one of them. Mummy knew that. She'd never ignore him or laugh at him from behind the newspaper like his father was doing.

 

“Now!” He pushed his bowl away, sending the spoon flying and sloshing half of the gruel on the table.

 

The laughter died in his throat and sighing deeply, Will lowered his newspaper. For a brief moment, he regretted giving into his wife’s need to have ‘another one’ two days after they had sent their youngest off to Hogwarts. Out of all his five children, Marcus was by far the most spoilt and challenging one. He loved the boy to death, but sometimes…

 

“She’ll come home as soon as Auntie Grace had her baby.”

 

 _‘Gods, come back soon,’_ Will wished silently. He'd heard the babe's first cries hours ago, long before an indignant Marcus had stared at him from his newly built big boy bed as he demanded to know where his mum was. Like his son, Will didn't understand what took Sally so long. Even with all the possible birthing trouble one could encounter, it made no sense for her to stay out this long.

 

 _‘She’s probably still mad at you for forgetting her birthday and this is her way of punishing you,_ ’ he mused and picked up his newspaper again.

 

Marcus grumbled at the mention of the baby. He liked their neighbour, Missus Bell - or Auntie Grace as he called her. The pretty lady was always kind to him. He loved it when she smiled at him or ruffled his hair whenever she came over for tea. And the most important; she always had Chocolate Frogs and Cauldron Cakes ready. She even had cuddles waiting for him whenever his mum got cross with him for being naughty.

 

Her having a new baby didn’t sit well with him, not one bit. Because not only it'd take her attention away from him, but he found it strange that she had swallowed one to begin with. And now – as his sisters had explained last summer when he asked why their neighbour had got fat- Auntie Grace had to poop it out. Couldn’t she just have planted the seed in the ground or a flower pot?

 

However, Marcus’ biggest concern about the baby was for it to come out as horrible as Michael Bell, Auntie Grace’s son, was. The stupid boy always pushed him to the ground and took his toys when no one was looking, all because he was older and bigger.

 

No, Marcus didn’t like Michael at all. He was already plotting payback for later when he'd be bigger and stronger than him. But that wasn't the problem. His father had hidden behind his newspaper again, ignoring him.

 

“I want Muh-hummy noooow.” He violently wriggled in his seat, making the chair legs screech over the tile floor to attract attention. When his dad slammed the Prophet on the table, his lips curled up into a sly smile; he'd achieved his goal.

 

“Stop it right now,” Will warned his son, waggling a big finger. When he was confident that Marcus got the message, he picked up his paper again. “Now, be a good boy and eat your porridge.”

 

In hindsight, Will should have known that the huffing and puffing were enough warning signs to keep a closer eye on little Marcus. The boy took scowling to whole new levels. While his nagging could get bad at times, you needed to start worrying when he kept quiet. That had never boded well before for the one he believed had wronged him.

 

Like last September when he had cut off Lexie's plaits the middle of the night before she was due to return to Hogwarts, all because she had refused to give him her ice cream the day before.

 

By the time Will remembered that lesson, Marcus had already hopped off his chair and was now hopping up and down by the kitchen door to reach the handle.

 

“Marcus William Flint, come here this instant!” Will bellowed as he jumped up. Sally would have his head if he lost their son. Again. Sadly, it wouldn’t be the first time Marcus had made a run for it under his care.

 

Marcus looked over his shoulder with narrowed eyes and stuck his tongue out before he jumped up again to reach the handle. He succeeded at it at the exact same moment his father lunged at him. His flailing coal shovels sized hands missed him by a hair length and as fast as his skinny legs were able to carry him, Marcus made a run for it into the cold, misty morning.

 

Will rubbed his face in indecision as he watched his scrawny son flee into the Bells’ back garden straight through the leafless shrubbery. He knew that he ought to chase after him and bring him back by his ear. However, the prospect of a nice quiet breakfast was an alluring one. Finally, he decided that facing his wife’s wrath was worth the limited quiet time he'd have and settled down for another fresh cuppa.

 

***

 

“Mummy…”

 

Marcus’ mouth stood open in a perfectly shaped ‘O’ as he watched the scene before him. His mummy, the one he had been waiting for all morning while facing near-starvation, was busy feeding Michael and his dad, Uncle John. The eggs and sausages he still craved so much were on their plates instead of in his tummy.

 

Sally Flint, usually a no-nonsense woman, cringed when she heard her son’s shocked voice. Cursing her husband under her breath for letting Marcus escape and thwart her plans to unwind for an hour or so with the new father and brother after the intense night they had, she slowly turned around.

 

“What are you doing here, honey?” She sighed in exasperation when he kept staring at her as if she had sprouted a second head. "Use your words, love."

 

“Mummy,” Marcus whispered, his bottom lip quivering. His eyes shifted from her to the two others sitting at the table and back to her again while he blinked rapidly to squeeze out a few tears.

 

Sally knew how to read the expressions on his face like no other. It wasn’t really that hard, Marcus was an open book when it came to certain matters. Like now, he wasn’t on the brink of fake tears because he was sad or had missed her, heavens no. The main reason was that he was notoriously possessive of whatever belonged to him. In his mind, she belonged to him and he didn’t share. Ever.

 

The real question to answer was how long it would take before the meltdown started.

 

Michael Bell, also three - two months shy of turning four, thank you very much- laughed at his silly neighbour boy. He partially covered his mouth so that his father couldn’t see him and stuck his tongue out at Marcus as he persistently tugged at Sally’s sleeve. When she finally looked down, he straightened out his face and put on puppy dog eyes.

 

“I’m still hungry, Auntie Sally,” he said in his best, fake pitiful voice. “Can I have another sausage, please?”

 

He wasn’t hungry; he had already eaten his weight in eggs and toast earlier. But with his mother too busy to pay attention, he’d take every bit of affection he could get. And what better than to take it away from that stupid, weepy Marcus.

 

“Oh, poor baby,” Sally cooed as she broke eye contact with her son and patted Michael on the cheek. “I’ll fry some up-”

 

Before she could finish what she wanted to say, Marcus let out a wail and rushed forward, wrapping himself around her legs and burying his face in the creases of her skirt. Her wanting to make more breakfast for Michael was the greatest betrayal she could commit and needed to be stopped.

 

“Mu-hummy,” he cried miserably with one eye on Michael. Anything he could do, Marcus could do better, after all. “I’m hungry too-hoo. Come home.”

 

Sally sighed at her son’s antics and flashed John Bell, who was trying his best not to burst out in laughter, an apologetic small before she crouched down to Marcus’ level. Sighing deeply, she pushed his chin up with one finger to make him look at her. She'd have to have a good talking with Will about letting their son unattended.

 

And about dressing him properly, too. A vest and shorts were not appropriate clothing for the winter, not to mention his lack of footwear. Then again, she was grateful he wasn’t dressed in one of the girls’ old dresses, thinking it was a longer, flowery shirt. Will had done it before. In fact, he'd done more times than she'd like to admit, to the point she suspected that he did it on purpose to get out of tending to Marcus in any shape or matter.

 

Although Marcus faced his mother, he kept his eyes downcast and did his best to produce sniffling noises. Sally gently tapped his nose. “Look at me, please.”

 

He turned his gaze from his toes to his mother, still blinking rapidly to push out tears. Just in time, two fat ones rolled down his cheeks: another great achievement this morning. His hands, crossed behind his back, clenched into fists when he heard Michael giggle and he tried to shake them at him as unobtrusive as possible.

 

“Stop that, Micky,” John Bell half-heartedly scolded his son when he started laughing louder.

 

Sally mouthed a ‘thank you’ before she turned to Marcus again and gently dried his barely wet cheeks with the hem of her skirt.

 

“Honey, what have I told you about crying?” she asked sternly. Regardless of what her husband thought– or the rest of the village, for that matter, she did not coddle Marcus. Not always, with today being one of those rare moments.

 

Marcus sucked in his bottom lip, trying to remember what his mother had told him ages ago. At the table, Michael burst out into another fit of giggles. To his satisfaction, though, Uncle John scolded him again. It always made him feel better when Michael got told off.

 

“Marcus, answer me please,” Sally asked impatiently.

 

Her tone triggered the memory of weeks ago when he had cried until he was hoarse because she'd refused to buy him a broom like she had done for his sisters. He released his lip and lowered his eyes to his toes again.

 

“Only cry when it hurts,” he mumbled, still not completely understanding why she'd changed the rules like that. How would she know what to get him or do for him when he didn’t cry? It didn’t make any sense.

 

Sally lifted her brows, convinced that she had him there. “Hmm, are you hurt now?”

 

Not one to give up easily, Marcus nodded. Behind him, Michael scoffed.

 

“Oh,” Sally let out in surprise; she hadn’t expected that answer. She quickly looked him over in worry, turning him around and lifting his arms and feet. “Where are you hurt, honey?”

 

“It hurts here, Mummy,” he answered her tearfully as he rubbed his small chest. He had seen his father do it a few nights ago in an attempt to steal a kiss from his mum. He had put a stop to that just in time, of course. From the very few times he had played nice with Michael, he had learnt that kissing with Uncle John was how Auntie Grace had swallowed the baby-seed.

 

And Marcus certainly didn't want his mummy to grow a baby. He was the baby in their family.

 

Sally sighed and from the corner of her eyes, she could see John Bell bite his cheeks to suppress his urge to laugh. She didn’t blame him; she would have laughed too if it hadn’t been her kid.

 

Not exactly sure how to respond to her son, she decided that it would be for the best to change the subject for now. With Marcus, food usually did the trick.

 

“You know what? Why don’t you go and sit next to Michael and I’ll whip up some eggs and bacon for you? If you don’t mind, John?”

 

“No, no, of course,” John said laughing and turned to Marcus. “We’ll introduce you to the new baby afterwards. What do you think about that, little man?”

 

Marcus grunted in reply, not listening. He was too busy clambering onto the chair and throwing his meanest looks at Michael at the same time. It was very important to him to show off his newly learnt multitasking skills.

 

“Sausages, not bacon,” he grumbled when he saw his mother open the wrong package of meat. Her huffing and warningly saying his name didn't impress him, though, because she always did that and rarely went through with her warnings.

 

As his mum cooked his breakfast and chatted with Uncle John, Marcus and Michael silently engaged in one of their fierce battles: glaring, kicking, and pinching each other under the table.

 

His morning had returned to almost normal.

 

***

 

Marcus was giddy with excitement when his mother guided him into the dimly lit bedroom. He quickly ran over to the oversized chair in the corner and plopped down next to Michael just as his mum had ordered. Too excited about seeing a new baby, he forgot to care about sitting so close to the other boy. Finally, he'd have someone smaller than him to boss around and he was already thinking about ways to be better at it than Michael was.

 

Impatiently and his arms already stretched out, he watched Auntie Grace hand over the fluffy bundle of blankets to Uncle John. He placed a kiss on it as soon as it was in his arms, making Marcus scrunch his nose. Why would anyone kiss a pile of blankets? Still, his curiosity and excitement took over when a flash of arm -or was it a leg?- peeped out the bundle. Even the swift nudge in his ribs and kick to the shins didn't put a stop to that.

 

“Mine,” Michael hissed.

 

Marcus wanted to retaliate, but his mother clearing her throat and giving him that ‘look’ held him back. He didn’t want to go home without seeing the baby first.

 

“Are you ready to meet your sister Katie, Micky?” John asked softly. When saw his son nod, he lowered the bundle into his waiting arms. “Hold her like that. No, don’t poke her eyes. Yeah, that’s a good boy. Now stay very still, all right?”

 

Whereas Michael Bell was overly joyous to hold his baby sister, Marcus’ face quickly turned sour in disappointment. Why did the baby have to be a girl? Having four sisters himself, he knew that girls weren’t fun. They always teased you, walked too fast while they held your hand, and the worst of all, they always wanted to change you into one of them.

 

His sister Mary always stickied pink bows in his hair, and his sister Ellie had coloured his lips and eyes with red and blue face paint once. Thankfully, Lexie and Lizzy were nicer, when they didn’t try to dress him pink, frilly dresses and then blamed it on Dad when Mum got cross.

 

The more he thought about the tortures his sisters put him through whenever they were home from Hogswash, the more Marcus decided that Michael deserved an evil sister. It would only be fair.

 

“Smile, boys,” John ordered and immediately snapped few photographs, nearly blinding the two young boys with the camera’s bright flashes.

 

Marcus scowled in most of them. With his head turned to the side and arms folded, he was the epitome of boredom. Only his mother’s warning coughs had him change his stance and for the final picture, he nearly split his face in half with a very broad and very fake, toothy grin.

 

“Put the baby in Marcus’ arms. That should make a nice picture,” Grace ordered from her bed.

 

“A-are you sure?” Sally asked nervously. The unfortunate incident with Lexie’s Kneazle kitten came to mind, but Grace didn’t need to know that. “He’s never held anything so small before.”

 

“He’ll be fine,” Grace brushed her off. “What’s the worst that can happen?”

 

 _‘Him squishing thelife out of her’_ Sally wanted to say, but instead chuckled anxiously and said, “Yeah, you’re right, he’ll be fine.”

 

_‘I hope your little girl will be as well.’_

 

Sally took her time crossing the small room, all the while hoping for John – or Merlin, whoever came first, really- to intervene. The only reaction she got from him was an encouraging nod.

 

Albeit short-lived, help came from an unexpected source. Michael, not wanting to share the limelight with Marcus, tightened the grip he had on the baby when she tried to take her from him.

 

“No!” he bellowed, startling the baby awake from her slumber. “My sister, he can’t have her.”

 

From behind a very relieved Sally –who was ready to give in- John and Grace guffawed at their son’s reaction. She awkwardly chuckled along as she crossed her fingers in hopes that the Bells would listen to their son.

 

“That’s my boy,” John wheezed, pinching his side, “Keep that up for the next eighteen years.”

 

“John, she’s barely a few hours old,” Grace half-heartedly admonished her husband when her laughter died down. When she was sure that she could put on a straight face, she turned her attention to Michael. “Let Marcus hold your sister, darling. You can hold her again after Daddy’s taken a few pictures.”

 

Michael protested some more as Sally pried his sister from his arms, but neither parent paid him any heed. His mother had already a look of endearment of her face as their smallest neighbour took her daughter in his arms, nearly dying at the adorableness of the sight in front of her. And his father was too busy taking more photographs of the moment.

 

As usual, Marcus ignored all the fuss around him; even his mother’s soft warnings not to squeeze the baby as he had done with Bubby were lost on him. He had only had eyes for the wrinkled, squirmy thing in his arms.

 

The first thing he noticed was how red and blotchy Baby Katie’s face was. Also, she was dirty, with strange white goo stuck to her skin. He reckoned that was from being pooped out; that could get messy he knew all too well. Her eyes, he couldn’t name the dark colour, were too big for her face, and she blinked far too slowly. Her thick, dark hair was stuck to her scalp in greasy looking strands. A small trace of hair branched out along her ears and onto her cheeks. With one finger, he stroked the downy hair covering the indentation on her head.

 

Huh, she already had a hole in her head.

 

Her lips were a pink colour, puckered and making suckling noises. Marcus pulled a face at hearing that; his Great-Aunt Beatrice did that too when she tried to kiss his cheeks whenever she came to visit. He quickly checked if Baby Katie had a prickly moustache as well, which she didn’t.

 

She didn’t look anything like his sisters, he concluded. They might tease him a lot whenever they were home from school, but they were pretty to look at, at least. In fact, Baby Katie reminded him of the baby monkey he had seen at the zoo last summer. She even had the wide button nose like the monkey.

 

“You have a beautiful daughter,” Sally sincerely told the new parents. She was already thinking about creative ways to convince Will to go for another one again. Was there anything more precious in life than having a baby? But then, Marcus opened his mouth and she knew that her husband would never agree to a sixth child.

 

“She’s ugly,” Marcus stated knowingly. His mum had always told him not to lie and she just told one. A big one. So, he took it upon himself to correct her like she always did when he fibbed.

 

His mother gasped, Michael kicked him in the shins again, and Uncle John and Auntie Grace started laughing. However, the worst reaction he got was from the baby girl herself.

 

With all the passing around, her already badly fastened nappy had come undone and went unnoticed under the layer of blankets. And just after Marcus had critiqued her appearance, Katie chose that exact moment to empty her bladder and bowels for the very first time in her life. Her little face twisted in utter exertion, reddening even more before she let it all go with a whimper of relief. It didn’t take long for the warm wetness to soak through the blankets and reach Marcus’ bare legs.

 

At first, he didn’t understand where the foul smell and warm stickiness on his legs came from. But when Baby Katie squirmed a bit and rubbed more into the cotton and wool enveloping her, he finally understood. His eyes grew large in horror before he let out a blood-curling scream. In his arms, little Katie joined his cries and proved that her lungs, just like her digestive system, were in perfect working order. It was that exact moment that John took his final picture of that morning.

 

The photographs taken that day were a source of hilarity for both families for many months. At birthdays, family gatherings, and then again when the Flint sisters came home from Hogwarts, the photographs were passed around for laughs. Most of the time, those moments at the Flint home ended with a hysterically kicking and screaming Marcus. It had become his young life’s mission to destroy the evidence of his embarrassment, but he never succeeded at it. Finding the photographs too precious, Sally had made sure to keep them far, far away from his reach.

 

Eventually, the novelty wore off and the excitement settled down. There was a brief revival six months later at the farewell party held for the Bells when they moved to London to take care of Grace Bell’s ailing muggle mother. But this time, Marcus didn’t care as much as he had about the often talked about pictures. He was too busy gloating over the fact that that awful Michael Bell and his evil, smelly sister were leaving. If one had not known better, they would have thought that the little boy had orchestrated the whole move to rid himself of his neighbours.

 

When the time came to wave the family goodbye on a warm May afternoon, two days before his fourth birthday, he had been the happiest boy alive. Even Baby Katie’s enthusiastic slobbering all over his face in an attempt to kiss him goodbye and the subsequent spitting up on his shirt hadn’t deterred him. Neither had Uncle John taking pictures of the moment, or Michael pinching him to get him to let go of his sister.

 

No, none of those things had mattered because, after that day, life was about to become good again for little Marcus.


	2. So, they meet again. It’s…something at first sight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Usual disclaimers apply.

It was a warm sunny day near the end of June in Tinworth, a little over nine years after the Bells had said goodbye to the tiny village. In all those years, nothing had changed much. The modest cottages with their thatched roofs and the luscious green forest in the background still dominated the vista. And if you squinted hard enough, you could even see the sun reflect on the calm surface of the Irish Sea in the far distance. The air was redolent with the sweet aroma of a myriad of flowers mixed with the fresh scent of pine trees and sea, and manure.

After months of peace, life had returned to the village now that Hogwarts had let their young ones out for the summer. The infectious joy the boys and girls had brought along, their cheers and laughter, cut through the slumber the townspeople lived in for a larger part of the year. The streets came to life again as the green fields became the playing ground for children of all ages.

However, not only the Hogwarts-aged children had returned to Tinworth.

At the edge of a meadow with her new broom tightly in her hand, nine-year-old Katie Bell watched in envy how the other kids played a simple version of Quidditch without her. They hadn’t acknowledged her standing there, let alone asked her to play with them. Instead, they pretended that she didn’t exist.

Thus far, her family’s move back to Tinworth wasn't what she had expected of it. When her parents had first told her that her they'd be moving back to their old home in a village she had never been to, Katie had been quite ecstatic about it. Finally, she'd see the village where she was born and heard so much about.

Her parents had promised her a big house with a back garden nearby a vast forest. The sea would be just a broom flight away, and there'd be enough space for her to practice flying. But most importantly, she wouldn’t have to hide from her Muggle friends that she and her family were magical. And if she were to have a bout of accidental magic here, the Ministry wouldn’t have to come and clean up her mess like last Christmas when she had made it rain candy canes.

She had looked forward to the move, and now that they had, she wanted to go back to London. Everything was just too different here. Granted, they had arrived at the small village just a few hours ago, so she understood that ought to give it a chance. But she didn't want to.

At least in London, she'd had numerous friends to play with whenever she got bored. After three hours in Tinworth and being snubbed by almost everyone she'd ran into, however, Katie had come to the conclusion that she wouldn't have that here. Even her own family was too busy to spend time with her.

The minute they had arrived here, her father had taken off to the butchery her parents had bought and would be opening in a fortnight. Katie understood the importance of work and money; Pounds and Galleons bought her all the nice toys she wanted. However, the monies didn’t help her adjust to her new surroundings.

Then there was Michael. Her brother had scolded her for asking him to fly with her, saying that he was too old to play with babies and had run out the house as fast as hos legs had carried him. 

Since last Christmas, Michael had become a strange boy. For one, he locked his door these days. Then there was yelling at her for wanting to rummage in his trunk. He had even kicked her out when she had sneaked into his room on Christmas morning for their early morning snuggles as they had always done. He had screamed like a pig brought to slaughter and shoved her out of his bed. The worst part was that her parents had scolded her and had gone on and on about young boys’ need for privvy-see. Katie had yet to figure what it meant and how it applied to Michael.

Lastly, there was her mother, who had started cleaning, then quite abruptly stopped halfway, and disappeared off to their new neighbours who she knew from long, long ago (her parents were very ancient, after all). She hadn’t asked Katie to come along when she shoved a bottle of wine under her arm, only telling her that she was taking a break with someone called Sally and for her to go and play outside.

“Go out and make some friends,” Katie shrilly mimicked her mother’s last words to her, waggling her finger in the air like she had done. How was she supposed to make new friends when they didn’t even bother coming near her?

What if…?

She lifted her arms and sniffed her armpits, not noticing the other kids move further away from her while they whispered and pointed. 

No, Katie concluded, she didn’t smell at all. Discretely, she looked down her body to make sure that the fly to her new shorts hadn't opened again. It hadn’t. Officially running out of ideas as to why the other didn’t want to play with her (she was very friendly and funny, after all), she decided that it was better to go back home. Her shoulders slumped in disappointment, and after a final longing glance at the other kids, she turned around and walked away dragging her new broom behind her.

The more the distance between her and the other kids grew, the more Katie believed that she had figured it out. Those kids were probably jealous of her real broomstick while they had to play with toy ones. That must have been it; they feared her amazing talent. Well, she wouldn’t allow them to bring her down. 

Hopping down the dirt path and humming a song she had composed herself (she had many talents), Katie made her way to her new home, stopping now and then to pick up a smooth rock for her collection. Her pockets were bulging by the time she was halfway down the path. Who would have thought that there would be so many pretty rocks out here?

The thatched roof of her house was already in sight when noises from the woods, which she had initially mistaken for weird birds twittering out of tune, piqued her curiosity. Now that she was closer, Katie had to admit that it sounded an awful lot like arguing. 

She let out a snort when she realised that it was boys talking. The way their voices hitched reminded her of Michael since he had developed a similar problem. The talking became noticeably louder and angrier as she came closer, exciting her even more. Never the one to pass up on some drama, Katie stealthily followed the voices into the woods without further thought.

“Just a few steps,” she reminded herself as carefully climbed over fallen branches and pushed away overhanging vines. Her mother had warned her about the dangers of the forest (although, the only troll she could think of right now was her awful brother) and made her promise not to wander into it alone. Luckily, Katie could adhere to that promise when, fairly quickly, a clearing came into sight, and she wasn't alone any longer.

Three tall boys -two dark-haired and one blond- hovered over another boy she couldn't quite see clearly. Because boys tended to act strange sometimes, she hid behind a large tree and poked her head around the corner to see what was going on. She was just in time to see the tallest of the dark-haired boys push the fourth, shorter one to the ground. She snort-laughed when she saw it was Michael who fell flat on his arse.

“I’ve told you not to do that,” the boy towering over him warned. His voice was a funny mix of high and low tones, hitching nearly every other word it seemed. He had it even worse than Michael.

The combination of the funny voice and the thrill of spying were too much, and Katie's giggles grew louder. Four startled boys looked up, turning their heads to see where the sound had come from. She quickly ducked behind the tree again. When her giggles died down, and she was sure that that they hadn’t noticed her, she peeped around the tree for the second time.

Michael had already scrambled up again and stood nose to nose with the tall, dark-haired boy. Her brother was angry, even from where she stood she could see that. His chest was heaving, and he had a mean look on his face. The one he gave her when she touched his stuff or asked him to play with her. He could bring her to tears with that look. It surprised her that it didn’t have any effect on the unfamiliar boy.

Michael swung his fist, but yet again, the boy pushed him to the ground before he could hit him.

“I won’t warn you again, Bell. Sod off!”

Katie bit her cheek to keep herself from bursting out into giggles again. She couldn’t help it. Really, she couldn’t. The boy just sounded too funny.

Somewhere, deep down, she knew that she ought to march over there and help her brother. But it was much better to see him get knocked down a few pegs. He had been mean to her, after all. Her giggles stopped, and her eyes grew large when her brother started hurling curse words she hadn't heard before. Had he learnt those at Hogwarts?

“You’re a fucking, inbred troll, Flint.” Michael tried to kick the boy in the shins from his sitting position, but only managed to stir up a cloud of dust.

The boy -Flint, apparently- tried to have another go at Michael, but one of the other two boys standing by, the blond one, stopped him. He put his hand on Flint’s arm and quietly talked into his ear. Whatever he said must have been good, Katie reckoned because the Flint boy took a few steps back. Scowling, he stuffed his fists deep into his pockets and kicked a pebble.

Katie could see his face now. His thick brows had knitted together in a deep frown, not even the lock of black hair falling over his forehead could hide it. She had to admit that it made him look rather scary. His lips moved fast without any words coming out, something she did as well when she was angry. Michael always told her she was bonkers for doing that, so it was nice to know that other people were as bonkers as she was.

In the meantime, the blond boy grabbed her brother by the arm and roughly helped him up. As he had with the Flint boy, he went on to quietly talk to him. Each time Michael wanted to protest about something or the other, he held his hand up and kept on talking. When he finished, he lightly shoved Michael and pointed at the edge of the clearing, telling him to go away.

Michael, dirty all over (he hated being dirty, Katie gloated), opened and closed his mouth a few times to say something. He balled his fists and kept throwing mean glances at Flint, who was now sneering at him. Eventually, making the best of a bad bargain, Michael stalked away.

Katie hurried into a nearby bush in a near panic when she noticed Michael walk straight at her. If caught, he’d probably accuse her of following him around or spying on him. It wouldn’t be the first time. When he passed her without noticing her, she let out a deep breath and slowly crawled back to her tree, her short hair a rats’ nest of leaves and twigs.

“Nice job, you prick!” The other dark-haired boy hit the Flint boy on the back of his head. “Did you have to do that?”

“What? I did nothing wrong,” Flint defended himself and folded his arms in defiance. “He’s a bloody dumb wanker. Why would I want to play with him?”

Katie frowned; she wasn’t entirely sure what a wanker was, but she knew for certain that her brother wasn’t dumb. He wasn’t the nicest, sure, but he was the smartest boy she knew. He was a Ravenclaw, which had to count for something. Her mum had told her that that was the House of the brightest students. It seemed boring to her, but Micky seemed happy with it.

“And now we’re not playing at all, you tosser,” the blond boy told Flint. Quite elegantly (Katie was jealous of that simple gesture, she hadn’t quite managed to master it, yet), he whipped a blond lock off his forehead before he spoke again.

“You can’t play Quidditch with an uneven number. We need to practice as much as possible if we want to humiliate Gryffindor next year.”

Katie nearly tumbled from behind her tree when she craned her neck too far to hear what the Flint boy was mumbling. She couldn’t help but feel a bit excited. They needed someone to play with, and _she_ wanted to play. Perhaps, she could convince them to include her in their game wherein she could show off some of her moves. 

It’d be a win-win for everyone.

“Might as well think of something else to do, then,” Flint sighed. “You two want to go for a swim?”

“No, no, no,” Katie muttered as she looked around for her broomstick. She couldn’t pass up on this chance to play. She grabbed her pink, child-sized Bluebottle and hurried from behind her tree. The boys were already on the other end of the clearing.

“Wait!” she called out as loudly as she could and ran after them. The rocks in her overflowing pockets bounced on her upper legs with each step. “Hey! Wait for me!”

Three heads turned around, looking at her and each other in suspicion. They waited for her until she was right in front of them, slightly panting. They didn’t hide their sniggers, but they did wait with talking to her until she caught her breath. See, they were already nicer than Michael, or even the other kids in the village.

“What d’you want?” the Flint one asked. “We’re busy here.”

“I can play Quidditch with you,” she told him proudly and held out her broom, her prized possession.

It was her mother’s old broomstick, but her parents had customised it her for her. Katie had picked out the pink coloured handle herself and helped her mum with painting the silver stars and moons on it, and her father had attached the silver and pink tinsels between the bristles with a special glue. When she flew fast enough, she resembled a shooting star.

The three boys blinked a few times in surprise, turned to look at each other, and then burst out into a fit of laughter that seemed to go on for hours. Katie changed her mind; they weren’t nicer than Michael.

“Oh, that’s a good one,” the blond boy managed to utter in between wheezes. “Who put you up to this?”

“No one,” she replied slowly, not quite understanding what he meant. “Can I play with you?”

“You?” The other dark-haired boy laughed. “Who are you?”

Katie scowled; she didn’t see what was so funny. “I’m Katie Be-” she stopped herself in time when the image of Michael came to mind. Maybe they’d push her to the ground as well if they found out that he was her brother. These boys didn’t seem to like him very much.

“Katie Beh? You’re a girl?” The Flint boy laughed even harder. In fact, it seemed as if the boys were in a competition of who could howl the loudest.

“Yeah...” Katie fingered her short locks. All the girls in London had short hair. Because their mums had refused to take them to a barber, Katie and her friend Rebecca had cut their hair themselves. Maybe, they didn’t like shorthaired girls here. That would explain why the other kids wouldn’t play with her.

“What kind of name if Beh?”

“A proper name,” she retorted, silently scolded herself for saying her name like that. Now she looked like the idiot her brother sometimes accused her of being.

“I want to play with you.” Katie forcefully held out her broom again. How difficult was it for them to understand that?

“Oh, that’s a good one.” The other dark-haired boy doubled over laughing, clapping his knee.

The blond boy's shoulders shook with silent laughter as he wiped the tears from his eyes. Flint just kept pointing at her, wheezing until he turned a dark shade of red.

“What’s so funny?” Katie stomped her foot in anger. “Stop laughing at me.”

Flint shook his head and stepped forward. “You… Wait, give me a minute.” He held up his hand and let out another boisterous laugh as tears ran down his cheeks. When he calmed down enough, he spoke up again.

“You can’t play with us,” he told her solemnly, trying hard to keep a straight face.

“Why not?”

He pointed at her again as if it answered anything. Behind him, the two other boys kept on cackling. “You can’t, little girl. Go and play in your sandbox and leave us alone.”

If Katie had been a few years older, she might have had a witty comeback. But for now, she was a mere a nine-year-old on the verge of angry tears and a pocket full of rocks. Her hand slipped into her pocket and her fingers curled around the largest and smoothest of them. She didn’t even know that she was doing it.

“Stop laughing,” she demanded. She shook her pebble-filled fist at them, which made the boys laugh even louder. They now mimicked her gestures and words at each other.

“Stop it.” She stomped her foot again, giving them more ammunition to mock her.

“Stop it.”

“No, you stop it.”

“You both stop it.”

Years later, thinking about this moment, Katie would cringe in embarrassment. She wasn’t a violent person, couldn’t hurt a fly even if she wanted to. But at that moment, a blinding rage overtook her, and she threw the rock in her hand as hard as she could. It hit Flint right between the eyes.

"Hoh."

Quite abruptly, the laughter stopped. Three sets of eyes turned to Katie and the expression on the boys’ faces slowly transformed from stunned surprise into anger. Flint raised his fingers to the spot the rock had hit him. Blood welled up from the small scratch where the rock had broken skin.

Katie swallowed hard and took a step back. She was in trouble now, she realised. “I, ah, I need to go.”

“You,” Flint growled and took a menacing step towards her.

Katie gulped again. To her disappointment, she noticed that the other two boys didn’t hold him back as they had done earlier with Michael. 

How unfair was that?

When Flint took another step closer -blood dripped down his nose now- Katie made a bad situation even worse. Out of self-preservation, her hand slipped back into her pocket for more ammunition, and in a reflex, she flung another rock. This one hit Flint again, and the muffled thud as it hit his forehead made her sick to her stomach.

“Oh.” Flint stopped, his eyes wide in surprise. The gash on his forehead, just beneath his hairline, was deeper than the one between his eyebrows. A generous amount of blood already streamed down his face. He took a few shaky steps, blinking rapidly to keep the blood from his eyes, and then fell to the ground.

“You’ve killed him!” the dark-haired boy shrieked in panic.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to,” Katie whispered in fear. Luckily, Flint groaned a bit, easing her mind a little on the killing part. 

“Get her, Ter!”

“You’re going to pay for this,” the blond, Ter, growled. He shook his fists at her, promising a good walloping when he got his hands on her.

“Please don’t.” Katie gulped hard and decided to follow the example her brother had set out earlier. The only difference was that she ran for her life, not even thinking about hopping on her customised pink broomstick.

Katie ran all the way home while, for what seemed the longest time, she heard the boys curse and yell as they followed her. She didn’t stop when she reached her new house, didn’t even look around to see if anyone was home. Instead, she bolted straight up to her new bedroom and hid under her bed.

As she pulled her winter covers over her for extra protection, shakily waiting for the Aurors (or those boys) to come and get her, Katie decided that she didn’t like this town and the kids who lived here. She could hardly wait until she was old enough to go to Hogwarts. There, she'd make real friends and become close with her brother again. Until then, she was quite comfortable and safe under her blankets.

Until dinner that was, and their new neighbours came over for dinner. Who would have guessed that they were the Flints? Moreover, who would've thought that they'd have a furious son with an egg-sized lump on his forehead?


	3. The first time Katie visited Marcus in his bedroom, and nearly killed him in the process, again. Oh well, at least she got an eye-full.

Marcus Flint, newly fifteen-years-old, stretched out lazily in his bed after a good night's sleep. Bright sunlight crept from underneath the slightly swaying curtains. Through the open windows the curtains obscured, he heard birds herald a new day with their incessant but melodious twittering.

It was the very first day of his summer holiday, which meant that he was free to do whatever he wanted to do for two long months. That included flying his broom for hours, laze around on the beach with his friends, and the most important, let his mother coddle him twenty-four-seven. After the difficult year he had, he deserved all the pampering she had to offer.

Hogwarts was fun and whatnot, but having privacy and unlimited access to his mother's cooking was better than anything the school had to offer. Besides that, attending Hogwarts was draining and temporarily leaving that competitive environment was like a breath of fresh air. On top of ruling Slytherin (in his mind), managing his Quidditch team as the Captain, and dodging detention as much as he could, the adults around him expected him to study hard enough to pass his classes as well.

How on earth was he supposed to combine all that? His busy social life was draining enough without the added pressure of studying. But that something to worry about come September. He was home now, ready to enjoy his life for a good amount of time and recuperate for the next school year.

He slowly blinked as he tried to get used to the light, the languid grin on his face a testament to the pleasant dream he had. He turned to his side and snuggled deeper into his mattress and relished in the fact that he was in his own bed again. Oh, and not to forget…

His hand slipped underneath the covers for some self-love as his eyes shut and he willed his brain to bring the object of his affection to the foreground. The morning wood he had already been sporting grew harder at the images, fantasies, of her. Like the real professional he was, his underpants came off in seconds, and he started the best morning exercise known to men. It didn't take long before his soft throaty moans filled the room as his hand went up and down.

Her name was Patricia Parkinson, a seventh year Slytherin Prefect. If Marcus had been the romantic type, he would have lauded her rosy cheeks, her long shiny hair, and bright blue eyes. He could have fantasised about her special smile (currently only directed at her boyfriend) and her smooth, alabaster skin. Aside from her beauty, she was very friendly and soft-spoken.

However, considering that we're talking about Marcus Flint here, or any other stereotypical teenager oozing hormones from every pore, he didn't care for those things. All he saw when he closed his eyes were Patricia's shapely long legs. They went up for miles before they disappeared under her skirt. Then her breasts ('tits' was his choice of word) and the way they made her shirt stretch to its limits added some much-needed fuel to the fire in his lower belly. Oh, and not to forget her pink knickers. A perfectly timed, but an unfortunate (for Patricia) gust last Halloween had singlehandedly supplied the majority of the Hogwarts boys with enough wanking material for a long time to come. He would know since he was one of them.

Patricia had just two imperfections: she wouldn't be returning to school after the summer and her boyfriend. Rodger Rosier was the envy of many boys with his unlimited fondling access. His fellow students considered him a smart man who had seen the potential in the girl in her third year and had held on tightly since then, quite literally. However, that was neither here or there.

Pink knickers barely covering her perfectly shaped arse was all that mattered.

Marcus' heavy breathing picked up, and his hand movements turned more frantic as he worked himself up to his peak. Since discovering that he could, he loved starting his mornings like this. Was there anything better?

In his fantasy, Patricia had shrugged off her blouse and reached back to unclasp her bra when she suddenly spoke to him in his mother’s voice.

"Marcus, darling, are you up yet?"

His eyes shot open in horror at hearing his name called from the other side of the door. "Huh? Mum?" he croaked hoarsely.

Sweating, still hard as a rock, and panting, he pulled up his covers up to his chin and shifted in discomfort just as Sally opened the door and peeked inside.

"Oh, you're awake," she chirped brightly. Having her youngest home always made her happy. Whether he liked it or not, he would always be her little boy. "You worried me when you didn't come down for breakfast."

"Ah, I- uhm," Marcus stammered. "Come-coming?"

When she noticed Marcus' dishevelled appearance, Sally flung the door open and bustled in without warning. To make matters worse, his father was right behind her, looking grumpier than usual. Hunger, Sally had refused to cook him his breakfast until their son had graced them with his company, did nothing for Will's mood.

"Get up you lazy-" Will stopped his scolding mid-sentence when he noticed something his wife hadn't. The cantankerous expression on his face morphed into a sly grin. "You're having a hard morning, son?"

"No, yes, sir. Ha-hard…" Marcus stammered and swallowed slowly when his father waggled his brows behind his mum's back. He knew; he always knew. It shouldn't have surprised him that this morning wasn't any different.

"My poor baby, are you alright? Oh, Merlin, he's sick, Will." Sally had seated herself on the edge of the bed, her cold hand on Marcus' sweaty forehead, gauging his temperature.

"You're burning up, love," she fussed. "How do you feel?"

How was he supposed to answer that? Good? Marcus looked wide-eyed at his father, hoping for some support. The older Flint only shrugged, and leant against the doorframe with his arms crossed, smiling broadly. To his utter dismay, his father was enjoying this a tad too much.

"I'm a little lightheaded," Marcus squeaked, hoping that his mother wouldn't ask further. He wasn't lying; all the blood had collected somewhere else, leaving nearly nothing to his brain and it didn't feel like it would get better soon. Involuntarily, images of Patricia in her bra popped up again.

What was wrong with him?

His father chuckled far too knowingly. "It feels terrible, doesn't it? The throbbing must be killing you."

"Yeah, throbs…"

Will nodded, waggling his brows again behind his wife's back. "We all feel lightheaded and throbbing from time to time."

And just like that, Marcus' mind decided to torture him some more when it came up with questions he truly didn't want to know the answers to. He swallowed down the bile rising in his throat and tried to purge the images of his father, and subsequently his mother, from the forefront of his mind.

This wasn't right, not one bit.

"Pull those covers down, honey," Sally ordered as she brushed the wet tendrils from his forehead. "Let me check you properly before I call the Healer."

"No, no, no," Marcus muttered and pulled his blankets up to his chin, holding on to the hem for dear life. "I-I feel better already."

"Nonsense, you're clearly sick. You feel hotter than an angry dragon's breath," she objected and yanked at the blanket.

"Mummy, please," Marcus squeaked and batted at his mother's hands with one hand whilst the other had a deadlock on the last piece of barrier between his naked lower body and the rest of the world.

Sally tried to pull the thin cotton back, getting more concerned with each passing second. Her baby must be very sick for him to fight her like this. "Let go, love."

"Mum, please don't!" Marcus shrieked again when Sally gave the thin barrier another yank. He pressed himself against the wall, frantically trying to keep himself covered, and looked up to his father in a silent plea to help him out here. All he got in return was a chuckle and a shrug. Yeah, the bastard was enjoying this too much.

Will, whose morning had turned out significantly better than he had expected with their youngest back home, finally decided to step in when his wife summoned her wand to remove the blanket. "Sally, don't."

She turned around in surprise and disbelief, her wand already in the air to be put into proper use. Her only son was dying here. "How can you say that? He's clearly sick. We need to check him and maybe call a Healer."

"No, no, no," Marcus groaned in embarrassment as he tucked all the ends of his blankets underneath his body now that she was temporarily distracted. "I'm fine, Mum."

"No, you're not. You're hot, sweating like a horse. We should-"

"Lizzy," was all that Will needed to say to make his wife's eyes go round.

Although the incident had happened more than ten years ago, which had involved the very naked Bole boy as well, it was still fresh on both their minds. Their daughter's name had become their safe word relating to matters of private nature involving their children

Will had never considered himself a prude man. But that particular incident still made him uncomfortable. Even after a decade, he hated to speak of it. He hated that he knew of it and most of all, he hated that his children hadn't figured out how to use the locks on their doors. The one rule that Will and Sally had vowed to adhere to; locked doors meant 'do not enter' and their thick-headed daughters and son were still too lazy to remember it.

"Oh," Sally squeaked and turned to look at Marcus again, her eyes travelling over the blanket. She nodded when she saw what her husband had been hinting at. Having guided four daughters through puberty, she had to admit that raising a son differed on some aspects. For instance, her girls didn't have body parts trying to poke through the covers. Boys, yes. Body parts, no.

Feeling flustered, she averted her eyes. "Well, that's… Yes."

Will's grumbling stomach broke the awkward silence in the room. "I'm hungry," he added needlessly and cocked his head at Marcus, winking. "He'll need to eat as well. You know, to regain his energy."

"Dad!" Marcus bellowed and felt his face heat up another few degrees. Why couldn't his parents be as prudish as other Pureblood families? Was that too much to ask?

"Yes, I can imagine," Sally agreed uncomfortably. She smoothed her skirt, plucking off imaginary lint. "Well, why don't I make us some breakfast? You come down when you're, uhm, ready?"

Marcus swallowed and nodded, too mortified to speak as she smoothed out his blanket over his chest and patted his cheek. Call him crazy, but he could swear that her pats felt heavier than usual. Was she slapping him?

"Well, then." Sally smiled tightly at her son before slipping back out of the room.

"Bloody hell," Marcus grumbled as he threw his arm over his eyes. The good mood he had woken up with was nowhere in sight. Still, his ordeal wasn't over yet.

Will still stood at the door, staring at his son with a mad grin on his face. He waited until he heard Sally move pots and pans around in the kitchen before he pushed himself off and walked over to stand over Marcus.

"What are you looking at?" Marcus barked, still wrapped up in his blanket. He'd like to detangle himself without giving his father an eye full, thank you very much.

"You had it coming, you arse."

Marcus lifted his arm and glared at his father. "How so?"

"Look at this." He pointed at the door. "What do you know? There is a lock on it. I know you know how to use one. So, use it the next time."

"Whatever," Marcus grumbled and covered his eyes again. His father did not agree, though.

Will lifted his arm from his face, staring at him with a stern look, which was enough for Marcus to keep his mouth shut for the time being. He might have had his mother wrapped up around his finger to get away with pretty much anything; he had never managed to do so with his father.

"Sorry, sir" he mumbled.

"That's better," Will answered. "Don't bother showering before coming down. I'm not waiting another hour to eat breakfast."

"Yes, sir." Marcus shifted in discomfit, wishing his father to leave him alone and let him sulk in dignity.

Will grinned smugly; this was just too good. "You know that we need to have the talk now."

"Merlin, no," Marcus groaned. "Really, Daddy, it's not necessary."

Will lightly hit his arm at that. "Don't 'daddy' me, you prick. I'm not looking forward to it either. But your mum won't leave either of us alone until we have, and you know it. Would it have killed you to get off your arse and lock the door before you-"

"I know, sir," Marcus cut him off horrified. Hearing his father say the word would probably kill him on the spot. He didn't think that he'd have another hard-on after today, ever.

"We'll have to postpone it until tonight," Will stated with fake regret.

If it had been up to him, he'd postpone it indefinitely. He had an inclining that Marcus could probably teach him a thing or two, judging by the magazines and odd books in this trunk, and he wasn't sure if he was ready to be corrected by a fifteen-year-old. Then again, he would have to talk to his son about letting his mum clean out his trunk while he still had his 'private literature' in there. It was a good thing Sally had delegated that particular job to him last night.

"I'm taking your mum to London for some shopping after breakfast. So, you'll have the house to yourself for the rest of the day." Seeing Marcus' head shoot up in excitement, he raised his brows again in warning. "I'll trust that you won't break down the house while we're gone."

"Of course not." Marcus huffed, offended that his father would think so little of him. It wasn't as if he'd set the chicken coop on fire again. He'd learnt his lesson the last that time that had happened.

"That means that Adrian and Terence aren't allowed to come over. I don't trust the three of you together. Do I make myself clear?"

"Yes," Marcus bit out, scowling at his father. "Can you go now?"

Will chuckled and shook his head. His son had just made things worse for himself. Tonight should be fun. Sally told him about the props John Bell had used for his talk with Michael last Christmas; perhaps he could outdo John on the embarrassment level.

"You have five minutes to get your arse to the table and pretend to be the pleasant boy your mother thinks you are. Don't bother finishing what you've started; you can do that after we've left. Understand?"

"Yes," Marcus hissed. Just as his father turned around to leave, he called out to him. "Oh, Dad, I'm telling Mum that you've called me an arse and a prick."

Will muttered something unintelligible under his breath as he stalked out the room. Sally was going to have his head for calling her 'baby' names. Apparently, names hurt poor Marcus' feelings.

As soon as the door closed behind his father, Marcus let out a sigh of relief and lay motionless on his bed. The day hadn't begun yet, and he already felt knackered. He dreaded going down to face his parents, how was he supposed to look his mother in the eye again after…that. Perhaps, he should pretend to be sick, for real this time.

As usual, his brain refused to cooperate to turn that idea into a solid plan. The delicious smells of fried sausages and eggs made him forget his humiliation and coaxed him out bed.

Food trumped embarrassment, after all.

***

As soon as the emerald fires of the Floo died down, Marcus ran up to his room and locked the door. He wasn't in the mood to finish what he had started, but he wanted to have some privacy just in case the occasion arose, so to speak. He wasn't that brave to do such things outside of his room or the bathroom. Yet.

He pushed his curtains aside and opened the windows further to let in the sun and fresh summer air. His mother's underhand comment about his smelly room after just one night of being home hadn't escaped him. After the morning they had, he wasn't about to make things worse by not listening to her hints; he still hoped to get a new broom this summer.

His lips curled up in derision when he saw the two demon-rats scurry around in his neighbour's back garden. Boy Bell was sitting on the steps by the kitchen door, sourly watching Girl Bell fly around on that pink abomination of hers. Involuntarily, Marcus' hand shot up to his hairline. The thin scar was barely visible to others, but he knew it was there. A permanent reminder of how crazy those Bells cretins were.

"Fucking idiots," he mumbled and turned around to get ready for a quick bath. He had better things to do than to watch those two idiots run around all day.

A quick bath turned into an hour-long soaking session and a shower after to wash off the 'residue'. Not caring about drying off or covering with a towel -it was a warm day, after all- he walked back into his room. To his annoyance, the Bell half-wits were still going at it outside, squealing (her) and cursing (him).

Marcus made a mental note to look up some jinxes and curses to throw at them once he got dressed. He could already see himself hovering on his broom high up in the air as he tortured them with the wickedest spells he could get his hands on. It would really make up for his horrible morning.

As Marcus rummaged through his cupboard drawer to find some clean underpants to put on, his eyes fell on his reflection in the mirror and forgot all about needing to put underwear on. He had to admit that he looked quite fit these days. Those long hours on the pitch and the additional house elf-lifting at nights in the common room were finally paying off.

He padded closer to the mirror and gave himself a thorough look-over. Aside from the newly developed hints of muscle, a few fine hairs had started growing on his chest. It wasn't as much as the fine hairs on his legs or the coarse ones around his crotch and armpits, but still, something was happening there. All that was left was hair growing on his face. There was already a downy shadow on his upper lip. Perhaps, by the end of the summer, he'd have a shave for the first time.

Satisfied with what he saw, he took a step back and nodded smugly at himself. Again, he managed to be a few steps ahead of the boys in his year. No one would doubt his captaincy the coming school year.

"You look good." He already saw himself fly around with a full grown beard by Christmas time.

Now, Marcus wasn't a particular dumb or slow boy. 'Selective' would be the best way to describe his academic and social abilities. If he decided he didn't like something or someone, he refused to put any further effort into it. The only reason he passed his classes, barely, was because his father had promised a good arse warming in case he ever had to repeat a year, no matter his age. Not that Will had ever spanked any of his children, but the threat was still there.

In the case of his looks, the idea that he wasn't considered good-looking had never occurred to him. His mother always called him her beautiful boy, his sisters always pinched his cheeks and called him handsome, and his brothers-in-law always asked if the birds were flocking around him yet. He had no reason to believe the contrary.

True, he still hadn't snogged or even held a girl's hand. But that was because the girls wouldn't let him. Then again, his friend's hadn't done those things either, so he didn't feel too bad about it. He didn't understand why some of his schoolmates whispered troll behind his back, though, or were scared of him. He was a nice enough bloke. It never it occurred to him that his ever-present scowl and occasional brutal taunts were the cause of that.

He was tall, taller than a regular fifteen-year-old, and up to a few months ago, he had been as lanky as he had been tall. With the bulking up and the broader shoulders, more strength had come. The additional strength had made him a real-life warlord during Quidditch matches, in his mind. In short, he believed that he was a catch and all he had to do now was to wait for the chits to see it as well.

While Marcus admired himself in the mirror, butt-naked and his crooked teeth bared in a broad grin as he flexed his arms, a small girl named Katie still flew in circles above her brother.

"Come on, Micky, please fly with me," she pleaded for the umpteenth time since rolling out her bed before dawn. Having her brother all to herself for the summer had got her more excited than Christmas morning. Because when Michael was kind to her, he was the bestest friend she could ever wish for.

It was a pity he wasn't in the mood today.

"Sod off, I'm busy," Michael answered in the utterly bored tone only he could manage. Getting angry and annoyed with her hadn't helped, so he decided to go with another strategy: ignoring her. He could keep up with it for longer than she had energy.

"Mih-hicky," Katie whined. "Please."

Her brother continued to ignore her as he stared up at the sky, then turned to pluck grass before he went on to study his nails. She sighed and let her shoulders fall, still hovering on her broom. She'd looked forward to seeing her brother again, but he hadn't, apparently. Not for the first time, she wondered why he didn't like her enough to spend time with her.

"What's it like to play Quidditch?" she tried in a final attempt to attract his attention.

"I'm a reserve, Katie. I wouldn't know," he clipped without bothering to look up from studying his trainers.

"Won't they let you play at all?" It wasn't the sort of conversation she had hoped for. She wanted him to tell her everything about Hogwarts and what she should expect come September. Better yet, she wanted him to teach her all of his Quidditch moves. Reserve player or not, he was good enough to make the team.

"No." The bored look on Michael's face turned into a dark scowl. His place in within the Ravenclaw Quidditch team was a sensitive subject, and he didn't care to share it with his annoying sister.

Katie chewed on lips; she was getting better at reading her brother's moods and knew when to drop the subject. Perhaps, she ought to try something else, something that would appeal to him, like breaking the rules or challenge him.

She lowered her gaze to the broomstick she was sitting on. It had been an excellent present at the time, but she had outgrown it. Flying on a pink broom with silver stars wasn't very cool these days; it certainly wasn't something she would like to be seen with at Hogwarts next school year. Her parents had promised to buy her a new one next summer, so she was stuck with it for another year.

Her thumbnail left indentations in the old wood as she chipped away the paint and thought about what she could do with Michael.

"Can you make me fly higher?"

Her broom was restricted not to fly higher than four feet. At the time, it had seemed an immense height to her. Now, though, not so much, and it was becoming increasingly frustrating. She didn't think that her brother could do anything about the restriction without risking punishment if their parents found out. Still, it was still worth a shot.

Michael tapped his chin as he studied his sister. Then, he held out his hand and beckoned her to come closer. "Let me see that thing."

Brightly smiling, Katie hopped off and offered him her broom. She already knew that he couldn't do much; their parents had locked up his wand to prevent him from using it without supervision. However, she appreciated the suggestion more than he'd ever know. Even Michael's apparent disgust when he took the broom from her, couldn't make her smile falter.

"It's all sticky. When was the last time you cleaned the handle?" He held the broom between his index finger and thumb, pretending to gag. When she merely shrugged, he rolled his eyes and quickly looked it over. "I can't lift the charms on it."

"Oh, that's a pity." Katie snatched her broom out his hands. Clean or not, she was quite sure that he hadn't even tried to check it properly. She was already thinking about Plan B to keep her brother's attention when he surprised her.

Knowing him, she should have known that he rarely had altruistic motives when it concerned her. After all, this was the boy who had tricked her into giving him her Christmas money last year and made her vow not to tell anyone. Alas, as it was, she craved his attention too much to think about his dubious nature when he casually said,

"But I can make you fly higher if you want to."

Although her eyes were as big as saucers at his suggestion, she missed the upward curl of his mouth as he carelessly twirled his wand. The one that was supposed to be locked away in their parents' bedroom.

"You can? How?"

"Hop on, and I'll show you."

Again, she didn't see the evil glint in his eyes or his arrogant smirk. Instead, she climbed on her broom and kicked off to hover two feet above the ground. "Now what?" she asked eagerly.

Michael, just a teenage boy that suffered from the usual teenage angst and youthful need to rebel, had the perfect spell to teach his little sister a lesson. Hopefully, she'd think twice about bothering him again for the rest of the summer. He had better things to do than babysitting an insufferable imp. His eyes wandered over to the Flint house. The window to Marcus' room stood wide-open, he noticed. He couldn't see the troll but was sure that he was in there somewhere. Maybe, Flint would appreciate his sister's company more than he did.

"Hold on tight, Sissy," he ordered her jovially. A tiny bit of doubt crept up on him as he saw the smile on her face at the use of the nickname. He couldn't remember the last time he had called her that. Then he remembered his Playwizard collection she had dug up from underneath his mattress to show their mother, and all the doubt melted away.

"Ready?"

Katie nodded enthusiastically and tightened her grip on her broomstick. "Ready!"

Quite the studious boy, Michael had made it his mission to study and perfect his magic as much as possible. Trivial things such as appropriate curriculum for his age or the restrictions on getting his hands on certain books had never stopped him. And he certainly had no scruples on practising a few spells on his sister.

"First, I'm going to use the Wingwardium Leviosa. You remember when I told you about that one?"

"It lifts up things. It was the first spell you learnt," Katie answered proudly. She had spent hours and hours reading and memorising the letters Michael had sent her his first year at Hogwarts.

Michael fought and won the urge the roll his eyes, not flattered or proud of her remembering that. Without further explanation, he murmured the spell as he swished and flicked his wand until she was high up in the air. On the same level as that ogre's bedroom, to be exact.

"Oh, wow," Katie gasped as she looked around in amazement, her hands tightly curled around her broom handle. She had never been this high up and the air, and as magnificent as it was, it was a tad scary as well.

"I can see into my room from here."

Michael hummed, not interested in anything Katie had to say. He was already calculating the force behind the next swish of his wand. Teaching her a lesson was one thing, scraping pieces of his sister from the side of the house was another. Chances were that he'd be grounded if that happened. When he was sure that nothing could go wrong, he took a deep breath.

_"Abicius!"_ screamed Michael and moved his wand to the right.

A faint blue light hit Katie in the chest. Too focussed on enjoying the view from her newly found high position, she didn't feel it at first, not until she felt herself moving in the air at a speed that made her gasp for air.

"Micky! Make it stop!"

"I can't!"

The last thing Katie saw and heard before she disappeared into the Flint house was her brother doubling over in a roaring laughter. The sound of shattering glass after colliding with something, or rather someone hard and fleshy, drowned out his howling laughter. She let go of her broom and covered her head as sharp pieces rained down on her.

"Ow, ow, ow," Katie groaned.

Surprisingly enough, someone groaned back. Still a bit out of it, she shook her head, certain that it was the ringing in her ears. It was then she noticed that her cheek pressed against something warm and soft. Slowly, her eyes opened. First the left one, and then the right. Skin, her face was pressed against skin: smooth, soft, and beautifully tanned skin. Confused, she pushed her finger into it.

"Gerrofme!" someone growled and buckled beneath her, which was soon followed by whimpers.

A person, she had landed on a person.

"Oh, no. Not again." Katie scrambled away, kicking and scratching. In utter panic, she frantically looked around for a door to escape. She was in a bedroom; one she didn't recognise. There was only one room left in the Flint home she had never wandered into during teatime visits to Auntie Sally.

This wasn't good, not good at all.

Gulping hard, she turned around. Her broom lay broken in half beside a cupboard. The empty frame of a large standing mirror stood in the corner. A single, sharp shard swinging dangerously in the old oak frame was the only indication that it had been a mirror. The rest of the reflective glass lay in shatters around the floor. On and around…

"You're naked! Why are you naked?" Katie shrieked and covered her eyes, but still peeking through her fingers. Aside from her brother, she had never seen a nude boy before. As far as she could tell, however, it was a bit disappointing. Apparently, a boy's naked bum was the same as a girl's bare bum.

Other than faint stirring at the sound of her voice, Flint stayed awfully quiet. Numerous small cuts covered his arms and back where she hadn't lain on. But what made her pale the most was the growing puddle of blood by his head. She had done it again; she had killed him again. All her efforts to evade him whenever he was home from school had ultimately been in vain.

"Are you alive?" Katie whispered whilst tiptoeing closer. The right thing to do would be to ensure that he was okay. Maybe, she should poke him again.

Marcus stirred once more and lifted his face from the floor. "Hurts," he mumbled.

"Oh, that's good then." Katie nodded, unsure of what she ought to do now. The decision was made for her when someone pounded on the door downstairs.

"Oi, Flint, open up!" His friends were here to come after her again.

Katie's breath hitched in fear, and she did the only thing a girl could do in such a situation. She took another good peek at Marcus' naked arse, grabbed the two halves of her broom (there was no need to leave evidence behind), and ran out of the house as fast as she could to hide in her room again. Hopefully, he wouldn't tell anyone what she had done. Just like the last time.

Similar to the last time she had nearly killed him, Katie didn't stop for anything until she was safely hidden away in her closet. Well, she did briefly stop in front of her brother, who was still howling with laughter in their back garden and kicked him as hard as she could between his legs.

In the end, it was inevitable that she would have to face the consequences of her actions. That moment came that same evening when two sets of angry-looking parents and a very ruffled looking Marcus Flint knocked on her bedroom door.

The stupid prick with the freshly healed gash on his forehead hadn't kept his mouth shut this time.


	4. The first time Marcus made her cry, and Michael had to save the day. But honestly, Katie shouldn't have eavesdropped to impress Oliver.

Thirteen-year-old Katie sat on her bed in one the girls' dormitories in Gryffindor Tower, writing an excellent essay for Potions class, one that would surely put her on Snape's good side. Her tongue peeked out in utter concentration as she tried to scribble down as many fancy words as possible to reach the two-foot essay Snape had demanded.

 

A loud knock on the door and it slamming open disturbed her concentration. Annoyed beyond belief, she glowered over her shoulder in hopes to blast the intruder to pieces with her powerful stare. Of course, nothing happened.

 

Angelina Johnson, Katie's potential new best friend (although, she was rethinking that position at the moment) and Quidditch teammate, stood in the opening. Judging by her glare, she was in a bad mood. She gave Katie a haughty look-over and lifted her chin with a huff indicating that she clearly didn't like what she was seeing. Having lived with Michael her whole life, Katie had become accustomed to being on the receiving ends of dirty looks and Angelina's change in attitude didn't faze her. Angie would need to step up her game to make an impression.

 

"What do you want? I'm busy here."

 

"Ollie wants to speak to you," Angelina bit out. For a second, it looked like she wanted to say more but seemingly thought better of it. Instead, she turned on her heels and stalked away without waiting for a reply.

 

Katie's scowl slowly transformed into a broad grin, her homework and Angelina already forgotten. Ollie, Captain Oliver Wood to outsiders, wanted to speak to her. That alone made up for all the wrongs in the world.

 

Her young girl's heart started drumming to the melody of an epic love song only she knew the lyrics to and her imagination shifted into overdrive. Millions of possible reasons he might have for wanting to see her crossed her mind. Maybe, he wanted to give her a private training session, as he was doing with Potter. In her mind, though, her training did not revolve around Quidditch. No, in her daydreams, Ollie's private training sessions consisted of them flying into the sunset with his strong arms curled around her waist as he explained (and showed) how to snog properly.

 

She was already planning her wedding and honeymoon when Angelina's shrill voice violently stripped her of those fantasies.

 

"Oi, hurry up, you bint! He doesn't have all day."

 

"Coming!" Katie called back and quietly added, "Jealous hag. You're angry because he asked for me."

 

She couldn't blame Angie for feeling that way; she had fancied him since her first day at school, so this must be devastating for her. After all, Ollie asked about her, Katie, specifically. Her friend must realise that she had no chance in the world with him now.

 

Outsiders to the House considered the Gryffindor Quidditch team a tight knit group. And on mostly they were, even little Katie and Harry fitted in without problems and were treated as equals by the older team members. But when it came to their Captain, all bets were off within the team. Rumour had it that the three girls would gladly claw each other's eyes out to get Oliver's attention, which the Weasley twins encouraged and left Harry immensely confused. The rumours weren't that far off centre. Alicia's black eye and broken nose -Angie had 'accidentally' pushed her off the stairs last night because Ally had dared to sit next to Ollie during breakfast- were a testament to that.

 

Not caring about the possible physical retaliation from her friends, Katie padded over to the mirror in the corner to make sure that she looked representable. Her fingers combed through her long brown locks to straighten out the frizzle. She pinched her cheeks for some colour, (not that she needed that when she was near Oliver. He had the unique talent to make her turn as red as an overripe tomato by just being there) and bit her lips to plump them.

 

"He said today!" Angelina yelled from her room. One of her trainers collided with the doorpost, startling Katie again.

 

"Mind your own business!" Katie screamed back and added in a soft whisper, "Demented old tart."

 

After a final twirl before the mirror and unbuttoning the top buttons of her shirt (the girls had finally decided to make a shy appearance over the summer), Katie scurried away to see the man of her dreams. Imaginary violins started playing in the background while she slowly strode down the stairs. It was oh so romantic with her elegantly descending the stairs and Oliver waiting at the bottom with a look of utter…

 

Katie gulped hard and her step faltered when Oliver came into sight. The look on his face was a mix of irritation and annoyance, not one of love and adoration she had hoped to see. His folded arms and tapping foot spoke volumes; he was not a happy boy.

 

_'Poor baby,'_ Katie thought and vowed to help him feel better again in any way she could. She plastered on her most seductive smile, the one she had seen on a stark-naked witch in one of Michael's 'special' magazines. So impressed by the smile, she had spent an enormous amount of time in front of a mirror to perfect it.

 

So busy with playing seductive, she forgot all about her surroundings and missed the last step. A high-pitched yelp escaped her when she tumbled down with flailing arms. Luckily, Oliver's reflexes were in perfect working order and he managed to catch her before she landed on her face and dragged him down with her.

 

"You've called, Oliver?" she breathed as she steadied herself in his strong arms, furiously batting her lashes to make him forget her mishap. Taking advantage of standing so close, she may or may not have sniffed him in the meantime. Sweat and cheap cologne; she wasn't sure how she felt about that.

 

Oliver Wood was an excellent Quidditch player and student. Unfortunately, as good as he was in those two aspects of his life, he was utter rubbish in dealing with the overly sensitive feelings of young teenage girls. In fact, he lacked so much tact that his name stood equal to making girls cry. He wasn't blunt to them for the sake of being mean, though. Words just poured out before his brain caught up and ordered him to shut his mouth. In his defence, he was also still trying to get over the 'girls are icky' phase of his life. At sixteen, he still didn't understand why those weird creatures tended to crowd around him and what he was supposed to with the attention.

 

Tonight wasn't much different and a snarky remark about dogs and sniffing crotches was already on his lips. But for the first time in a long time, he bit his tongue even when he was sure that his new Chaser had smelt him. See, girls are icky.

 

Shaking his head, he pushed her off. There were more pressing matters to deal with tonight. His team was to play against Slytherin next week, their arch nemesis (in his mind), and he still had no idea what their Captain was plotting. The thick-headed, loud-mouthed Snake, otherwise known as Flint, had stopped using the pitch to instruct his team and only trained between classes or late at night while the other students were locked up due to curfew, all with permission from Snape. How on earth was he, Oliver Wood, Quidditch Captain extraordinaire, supposed to spy on them and use it to his advantage without skiving off classes or receiving detention for being out after curfew?

 

The answer had presented itself at dinner. A close Hufflepuff friend, who shall remain nameless because of the strange tingles he caused Oliver, had whispered in his ear that the Slytherin team was having a secret meeting, in the library of all places. It was perfect, brilliant in its simplicity because no one would think to search for those blokes in there. Would you look for snow in the desert?

 

And that's where Bell came in. With her being so small and innocent looking, the Slytherins wouldn't expect her to spy for Gryffindor. Merlin, with all the fuss about adding Potter, an ickle first year, to the team, everyone had forgotten about the newly selected Chaser. In case that they did found her out, well, let's say Oliver would wash his hands clean of it. If it all went pear-shaped, there would be one sniffing, horrid girl less to bother him.

 

Win-win all the way, in his opinion.

 

"Oliver," Katie breathed again. Last summer, she had overheard her mother, Sally, and her daughters talk about how men liked to hear their names screamed out in the heat of the moment. She wasn't exactly sure what they'd meant with 'the heat of the moment' but screaming in the middle of the common room seemed a bit improper. So, she opted to repeat his name in each sentence she spoke. It was just a shame that she sounded more like a croaking frog with a bad case of strep.

 

"You wanted to see me, Oliver?"

 

"What? Oh, yes." He scratched his head, thinking about what the best way was to instruct her on her task and getting her to stop puffing in his face.

 

He didn't believe that she'd refuse to help him out; girls usually asked how high when he requested something. In case she didn't bite immediately, he had prepared a speech about her valuable aid to a noble cause. That usually did the trick with the blokes.

 

He took a deep breath as he looked down at Katie, wondering if she had something in her eyes. "I have a favour to ask of you."

 

***

 

As predicted, the Slytherin Quidditch team (minus Derrick since he had an unfortunate accident in Transfiguration class earlier that day) was in the library when a small, skinny girl came rushing in. Marcus saw her enter from the corner of his eye, and he had to admit that her ability to stay upright with that many heavy books in her arms was quite impressive. But as it was, faceless, skinny girls didn't stay for too long on his mind and another Treacle Tart distracted his attention from the pile of books on legs.

 

The treat was one of the many in his mother's daily care package and because was Marcus was a generous Captain, he didn't mind sharing with his teammates on occasion. It kept the moral high and having them addicted to his mother's sugary and savoury treats gave him controlling powers over them.

 

Today's package was larger than usual, though; his mother had mixed up his basket with the one she had prepared for his sister Lizzy, who was pregnant. Again. According to their mother, Lizzy needed all the additional nutrients in the pasties and cakes to have a healthy and most importantly, a very big baby. Just like the previous five mini-giants she had spawned.

 

Unlike his mother, Marcus had been less than thrilled about the pending arrival of a new niece or nephew. Ever since founding out in his first year at Hogwarts about the real way babies were made, he had been greatly disturbed each time one of his sister's had announced another pregnancy. The knowledge that his brothers-in-law did that with his sisters made him queasy. And then his mind would wander off to his parents and the fact that they also had children, and the queasiness turned into full-blown nausea, not to mention the nightmares that followed at night. Because of that trauma alone, he hadn't informed his mother of her mistake. He deserved all the treats he got since food had the ability to purge those images from his mind.

 

"That was Ravenclaw," Adrian concluded and scribbled something on a stained piece of parchment. "That leaves us Gryffindor."

 

Marcus belched and leant back in his chair, scratching his full stomach. "I'll start-"

 

A blond head peeked around one of the bookcases. Their lookout, a first year Slytherin by the name of Draco Malfoy, let out a loud cough in warning; his signal to let them know that Madam Pince was on her way. The boys quickly cleared the table and shoved the basket with treats underneath it, hiding it from sight with their legs and overhanging robes. Books were opened and all six pretended to study hard.

 

Sure enough, the stern looking woman came bustling by, eyeing them in suspicion. She knew that they were up to something; none of the boys had shown an interest in academics before. It would surprise her if they knew how to read or write their own names. That's why it was so unnerving to have them grouped together in her library, around her precious books.

 

To Madam Pince's disappointed, the Slytherins were the prime example of hard studying students tonight, scribbling and treating her tomes with respect. She lingered a bit longer, unnecessarily rearranging books in hopes to catch them red-handed. When nothing happened, she pursed her lips and slowly backed away.

 

"Don't bend the spine that far," she barked at the small girl sitting two tables over and snatched a booklet from her hands on her way out. It wasn't Hogwarts property, but since saving books from unqualified hands always made her feel better, she felt justified in doing so.

 

Terence let out a chuckle in relief as soon as she left and ducked to retrieve the basket.

 

"Oi, Malfoy." When he poked his head around the corner, Terence tossed a meat pasty his way. "Good boy."

 

"Where were we?" Marcus yawned again and shoved his Charms book aside. Tonight had been the first time he had opened it since the start of the school year. "Let's get this over with; I'm going to bed early this evening."

 

"You want to wank off to Belinda," Adrian said sniggering before he pushed another crumpet into his mouth. "You're going to strain yourself one of these days," he added, spraying crumbs around.

 

"So? Who doesn't think of her?" Marcus shrugged unabashed, pumping his fist up and down to show off his moves. "She wants us to wank, and you know it."

 

The oldest Greengrass girl, a seventh year Ravenclaw, was the wet dream of nearly all the Slytherin boys. Not as spectacular as Patricia Parkinson (now Rosier, unfortunately), but still a good second.

 

She was polite and friendly, for a Greengrass, but most importantly, she had a killer body like Patricia. Long legs, a rack that could knock you out and soft, wavy blond hair that begged to be wrapped around your fist. Marcus wasn't ashamed to admit that she was the leading lady in his fantasies at night, or sometimes even in class (which could be inconvenient at times). Unlike Patricia, though, Belinda was happily single and a real flirt, which did wonders for her popularity.

 

Five boys with glassy eyes and minds in the gutter fell into a comfortable silence, silently lamenting the day that Belinda would finish school and leave them behind like Patricia had.

 

Graham Montague, the only one happily munching on a chocolate cake, didn't share the general sentiment. Without thinking, he broke the silence with a far too happy, "I don't wank to her. Johnson does it for me."

 

Three sets of eyes turned to him in surprise. Miles Bletchley and Cassius Warrington, who shared a dorm with the boy, rolled their eyes and groaned in annoyance. More times than they cared to count, they had been involuntary witnesses to Montague's fantasies about a certain Gryffindor in their year. Graham just didn't know how to cast a proper Silencing Charm to hide it. Or have good taste in women in general.

 

"And that's where we left off,' Warrington drawled in a bored tone, 'the Gryffindor team. Or as Montague prefers to call them: 'Angelina and the rest'."

 

"Oh, do tell." Terence wrung his hands in anticipation. Always the one to appreciate variety, he could do with some new wanking material. "I say Graham here starts first. It's only fair."

 

"No, no, s'all right," the boy mumbled. His eyes were downcast and his face turned a beet red in embarrassment. "You go first, being older and all..."

 

"Nope, I don't think so." Adrian clapped him on his shoulder. "Spill it, what's this about Johnson? What's so special about her?"

 

Graham mumbled something unintelligible, refusing to look up as he kept on nibbling from his cake. Marcus, trying to stifle another yawn, decided to take the lead again. If someone were to make a decision about the topics during their team meetings, it would be him.

 

"We'll get back to you later," Marcus started deftly, delaying Montague's embarrassment as a form of torture, and pulled out another piece of parchment from underneath one of the books. He studied it for what seemed the longest time, tapping his chin as his eyes darted up and down.

 

"Hmm, Gryffindor team… I hear that they have three girls this year, all Chasers. I know of Johnson and Spinnet, we'll discuss them in a minute,' he looked pointedly at Montague, 'Do we have a name for the third chit?"

 

The boys shuffled in their papers, looking up the requested information. To an outsider, like one Katie Bell sitting two tables over, it seemed like a genuine team meeting, improper talk and all. Now that they were finally getting down to business, she picked up her quill and was ready scribble down everything they were to say about her team.

 

Oliver was going to declare his undying love for her when she'd return with useful information. It would be tremendously helpful to know how the Slytherin planned to block the Gryffindor Chasers. They'd be able to change their tactics for next week's match and come out a winner.

 

Even though Katie would deny it vehemently if you'd ever confront her, there was a tiny bit of curiosity, buried deep down, to know what the Slytherin team's thought of her Quidditch talents. Especially, she was curious about what her brutish neighbour, Marcus Flint, thought. He was good at the sport, better than most boys she knew, even better than her brother and Ollie, so his opinion did matter. Sort of.

 

She would never tell him, of course, because that would require actual talking to each other. Usually, he ignored her at school, to the point he'd nearly walked over her without noticing a few times. During the school holidays back home was the only time he acknowledged her existence, which mostly consisted of scowling whenever they crossed paths. Not that she could blame him for the grudge he held; there were a few instances she had made an attempt at his life, after all.

 

Still, did he think enough of her talents (unlike her family) to come up with a particular strategy to thwart her first game? Gods, she hoped so. It would be so nice to have other people than her Housemates acknowledge that she was good enough to be on the team. Her brother, the Ravenclaw Seeker, had commented that Wood must have been desperate to select her and their parents had only written her with the request not to fall off her broom. She hadn't done that in months!

 

"…Bell." Katie's head shot up in excitement at the mention of her name. This was it.

 

Warrington frowned at the name on the piece of parchment is his hands. "Bell?" he repeated in disbelief, more to himself than anyone else. "That can't be right."

 

Terence and Adrian started sniggering. Across the table, Marcus glared at them and ran his finger across his throat to scare them into silence. The urge to touch his scar hidden underneath his hairline was getting weaker as the months went by, but that didn't mean he wanted the whole world to know what the little chit had done to him. Twice.

 

"Katie," he spat her name. "I heard she got sorted into Gryffindor."

 

He knew, of course. Hers had been the only sorting he had kept a close eye on to reassure himself that he wouldn't be stuck with her in Slytherin.

 

"When was that? I can't remember another Bell getting sorted," Bletchley asked slowly. Like most Slytherins, he only cared to recall the newest additions to their own House, the rest of the Hogwarts students rarely mattered. Unless the student was a fit bird, as Montague could attest.

 

"Last year," Adrian helped, "She's a terrible little twat with a big mouth, worse than her brother."

 

"She's Flint's neighbour," Terence added without thinking as he made a grab for another meat pie. "A mousy little thing, not much to look at if you ask me. Not as hideous as Horse-Face Spinnet or an eyesore like that pudgy Hufflepuff girl, but they circle in the same orbit."

 

The boys didn't see the girl at the other table hunch her shoulders. The Quill she had been holding earlier broke in half in her hands.

 

"Oh, you mean the one that drowns in her robes? The one that keeps following Wood around like a puppy?" Bletchley asked, finally able to put a face to the name. "Why would he pick her? You reckon the rest of Gryffindor is that bad, or is she that good?"

 

"With Wood, you'll never know. Maybe, he wants to throw us off course and bring in a reserve during the official matches," Marcus mused. "It must be a trick; she can't walk a straight line for two steps, let alone fly properly. You should have seen her last summer."

 

"What happened last summer?" Graham inquired.

 

Marcus grinned at the memory. "Dad had to get her down from the trees because she had veered off in the wrong direction and got stuck in the top branches. She was up there for hours before he found her."

 

"How do you know it was for hours?" Bletchley asked. He didn't care to hear about Bell, but as it was, he was eying a bacon roll Flint wanted to save for breakfast and he needed him distracted enough to snatch it.

 

Marcus shrugged, grinning smugly. It had been the perfect payback for mutilating him the previous year. Their parents might have bought into her excuses of 'accidental' magic, but he knew better. "I saw her fly into it; I might have helped her a bit."

 

"That's awful," Graham started, but Warrington's kick to the shins told him to shut his mouth. His friend had never been wrong with his warnings.

 

"Pshh, she had it coming," Marcus brushed him off. Seeing her squirm and cry up in those trees had been better than anything else he could have come up with and he refused to feel guilty about it. "But back to Wood. Why would he put her on the team?"

 

"Maybe, he wants to scare us," Adrian put his two knuts in, "With her being unsightly."

 

Marcus snorted. "I'm already used to that ugly snout, unfortunately. It won't scare me off."

 

"Me neither," Bletchley chimed in. "I've seen Victor Goyle naked; I can handle uglies."

 

"At least, Goyle has tits. The girl Bell is as flat as a chessboard." Marcus shuddered at the memory of seeing Katie sunbathing in the garden last summer. Her mother on the other hand…

 

"All elbows and knees, she is." A lightbulb seemed to go on in Marcus' head and he snapped his fingers. "Ah, that's it. Wood wants to use her pointy limbs to stab us to death. You lot better wear more protective gear next week and stay away from her."

 

"I don't know, mate," Terence mused. "What if she turns out to be a good Chaser and her hideousness is a ploy to trick us into doing exactly what you’ve suggested?"

 

"I'll run around the Great Hall starkers if she manages to score a point," Marcus declared confidently, sure that Katie's lack of talent would spare him that humiliation. "She's a nightmare on and off a broom. I'd be surprised if she makes it to five minutes without flying into the stands."

 

Katie hadn't noticed that she was crying until the first drops fell on the unwritten piece of parchment. Without bothering to dry her cheeks, she stood up and collected her books. Behind her, the Slytherin boys were still making fun of her, with Flint in the lead. One crude remark after the other followed in rapid succession.

 

Little whimpers escaped her as she pressed her books to her chest and hurried to the exit before real sobs overtook her. She'd die of embarrassment if someone saw her break down in public. She had watched herself cry in the mirror once and it didn't look good.

 

In her rush to get out and wallow in her misery in solitude, she accidently bumped against Marcus' chair. The laughs at the table stopped immediately and six overgrown Slytherins turned their matching glares to her. Maybe, it was her imagination fuelled by the rumours circling the Gryffindor common room, but she was sure that she heard them hiss.

 

"Lost your sense of direction again, Bell?" Marcus sneered.

 

Her lip started quivering and she clutched her books closer to her, apparently flat, chest. "I'm sorry," she whispered.

 

"As you should be. Now, be a good little bint and sod off."

 

She had intended to walk away without further fuss to keep her dignity. However, her feet refused and her stubbornness kicked in. It wasn't the rude comments about her looks that had hurt her the most; she knew that she had to grow into them. Her mum had promised her that she would, just as she had to do when she was Katie's age. And Katie believed her mother more than what a few mean boys had to say.

 

No, it was their disbelief in her Quidditch qualities. It didn't hurt the same as her parents' and brother's disbelief. But it was enough to make her cry. Well, she'd show them. First, she was going to make Marcus Flint pay for all the horrible things he said about her.

 

Without overthinking it, Katie kicked the leg of his chair when he turned to his friends again, laughing at her expense. He didn't look up, instead waved her off as if she was a pesky gnat buzzing by his ear. Determined to speak her mind, she still went on to berate him, waggling her finger at the back of his head.

 

"You're a very mean boy, Marcus Flint," she half scolded, half cried. "I-I…."

 

The other boys started chuckling when she got tongue-tied. Pucey even hid his face in his hands in second-hand embarrassment. However, Marcus didn't join them as he turned around, his brows knitted together and lips pulled up in a sneer.

 

"You've been eavesdropping, Bell? That isn't nice, is it? Do you know what they do to little spies like you?"

 

"I-I…" Katie stammered, unsure how to respond without outing herself as a real spy. Unfortunately, she blurted out the next thing that came to mind. "You-you have a pale arse!"

 

Marcus' eyes widened in surprise. "Have you been staring at my arse again, Bell? You can touch it if you want."

 

On the other side of the table, Adrian and Terence doubled over in laughter whereas the other three were confused, laughing tentatively, but confused.

 

"No! You…you terrible boy," Katie cried. She felt her cheeks heat up in mortification. It was so unfair; he should have been the one to be embarrassed, not her. "Y-you have hair on it!"

 

The boys let out a howling laughter with Marcus as the loudest of them all. Draco Malfoy's head peeked around the corner again, coughing in warning.

 

"Are you that obsessed with my arse, Bell?" Marcus wheezed as he pinched his sides. "You want a picture to remember it by?"

 

"You…" she growled and shook her fist at him in frustration. However, before she could humiliate herself more, her feet figured out how to walk and she stormed out.

 

So upset with the Slytherins, she ran straight passed Oliver, who was waiting for her outside the library. Tears flowed freely down her cheeks as she stomped through the empty corridors when halfway to the Tower she ran head first into her brother.

 

Michael, forever in Katie's debt for not snitching on him last year, was shocked to see his sister bawl like this, and publicly at that. She'd never done that before, no matter how upset. Although he liked to torment her as only a big brother could, he didn't like to see her sad about something he hadn't caused. Stalking Belinda Greengrass had to wait for another night; he had a sister to comfort.

 

"Katie? What's wrong?" he asked as he rubbed his chest where she had hit him with her hard head.

 

His father was going to be so proud of him for taking care of their Katie. Maybe even worth-a-new-Nimbus kind of proud. He reckoned that is was a worth a shot and was already composing the letter he intended to write as soon as he got back to his dormitory.

 

Katie finally looked up, her big brown eyes glassy with tears and her cheeks wet. Another fresh batch of tears followed when she noted that Michael seemed genuinely concerned about her. It was all too much.

 

"Oliver…Quidditch…secret…rude…m-my…tits…arse," was all that came out in a blubbery mess.

 

To her, it made perfect sense and told what had happened from beginning to end. Unfortunately, Michael only heard that Oliver had touched her tits and arse under the pretence of Quidditch. An old promise his father had jokingly reminded him the day Katie started Hogwarts came to mind.

 

He would protect his sister from groping perverts and this time he meant it. Also, it did explain why Wood had selected his sister to the Gryffindor team.

 

"Don't worry, sissy," he cooed as threw his arm around her shoulder and pulled her closer. "Let's get you back to the tower. I'll take care of the problem after that, yeah?"

 

Reassured that her brother would take care of those awful boys for her, Katie fell into a peaceful sleep that night. It wasn't until she made it to breakfast in the Great Hall, she realised that her brother had taken revenge all right. The only thing was, it hadn't quite turned out in the way it was supposed to turn out. Because having Oliver suspended up in the air in the Great Hall in his underpants and sporting two black eyes while the Professors tried to bypass the deflective shield to get him down, was not the revenge she had imagined.

 

_'Maybe next time, I ought to be clearer with Michael,'_ she thought wryly as her eyes darted between the nearly-choking-in-their-laughter Slytherins, her smugly grinning brother, and a flailing Oliver up in the air.

 

Still, instead of getting aggravated with her brother, giddiness took over. Because it was then she realised that her brother liked her enough to avenge her in such a cruel, but brilliant way. Perhaps, there was still hope for them as siblings. The hurtful and cruel words about her Quidditch talents and looks were long forgotten by the time she sat down and took a bite from her buttered toast. Small gestures like this made everything all right again.

 

And Flint? She briefly glanced his way at the Slytherin table. His face was red with glee as he wiped away tears of laughter and kept pointing at Oliver. For the briefest second, the thin scar on his forehead became visible when he threw his head back, whipping his hair aside. Thinking about the two times she had managed to knock him out and maiming him for life, she decided they were even for now. Besides, the next time he or his friends were mean to her, she'd just tell her brother. He'd fix things for her.

 

Katie wrinkled her nose as she looked up at Oliver and took another bite. She couldn't put her finger on to the why, but suddenly he didn't look all that appealing anymore.


	5. The first time they talked without one of them getting hurt because of the other, physically or emotionally. Katie did hit her head, though. Twice.

“Get your pasty arse back here!” Will roared after his son. He saw red with anger and Sally had to hold him back when Marcus flipped him off before he slammed the door with a loud bang, rattling the windows in their frames.

 

Of course, Marcus didn’t listen. He never listened, and usually, Will coped well enough with it. He knew his son was a lot like him: loud, blunt, and very opinionated. Ordinarily, a firm scolding used to straighten him out right away whenever he became too intolerable. Tonight, though, tonight Marcus had gone too far; he'd made his mother cry.

 

Christmas was just two days away and William guessed that considering their argument, there'd be one plate less on the table. He pinched the bridge of his nose in aggravation. He could swear that he in the past hour, most of his hair follicles had turned grey. Even his girls hadn’t managed to do that, and they were the sole reason the term ‘hellion’ was invented.

 

Sally wiped the tears from her eyes. “What are we going to do now?”

 

Will sat next to his wife and draped his arm around her shoulders. Pulling her closer, he kissed the top of her head in comfort. “He’ll come around; you’ll see.”

 

“What if he doesn’t?” she asked in a small voice. “He’s too young to be out on his own. He’s my baby, Will.”

 

“Yeah,” he sighed. Their son was a baby all right. A loud, attention-hungry, spoilt almost man-child. “I know.”

 

Maybe, that was their problem; both of them refused to see Marcus as something other than the baby of the family. Although, it would have helped if the little prick hadn’t acted like one so many times before. Of age or not, sometimes, their son was nothing more than an overgrown petulant little boy. How was he supposed to take care of himself?

 

“I’ll talk to him again in the morning. We’ll get this sorted out,” he promised her. But deep down, he knew Marcus had already made up his mind, and no matter what, no one would be able to convince him otherwise.

 

Damned that Flint stubbornness.

 

***

 

“Fuck,” Marcus mumbled under his breath and swatted snowflakes from his face.

 

Shivering from the cold, he stood in the ankle-deep snow in the back garden with his hands deep in his trouser pockets. Making a dramatic exit had always been on his to-do-list, but he wished he had thought ahead and had grabbed his coat and wand on his way out. He refused to go back inside, though. It would be the ultimate sign of weakness, and he was sure that if he saw his mum cry, he’d rethink his plans and give in.

 

Her loud wails already carried through the walls, almost making him change his mind already. 'Almost' being the keyword.

 

He had expected their reaction, and truth be told, it wasn’t nearly as bad as he had anticipated. By the time the real meltdown would come, he'd be relaxing on a beach with a fruity drink. He hoped. His fingers lightly touched the small tin in his pocket: the portkey that was supposed to take him to Portugal in the morning, and not the day after Christmas as he had told his parents. If he had, they would have taken it from him. He couldn't let them to that. It was his ticket to becoming a professional, after all.

 

For a short moment, he forgot about the fight he had with his parents or the fact he was freezing his bollocks off in the snow. Dreams of him flying in the Braga Broomfleet Stadium, winning the Portuguese Cup with them and being crowned the Best Player in the League flashed before his eyes. He could almost taste the victory and fame that came with being a professional Quidditch player. Merlin, he wanted this so much.

 

Fighting voices, which seemed to come from the Bell home, rudely interrupted his daydream. Annoyed that someone had dared to ruin his moment, Marcus craned his neck to see what was going on the other side of the hedge and took a few steps closer. It was strangely reassuring that to know that he wasn’t the only one having a shitty night.

 

He pushed a few branches aside and peeked into his neighbours’ garden. From where he stood, Marcus was able to see Michael Bell and his father arguing in the kitchen. Grace Bell sat at the table, altering between dabbing her eyes, waggling her finger at her husband and son, and scolding one or both of them. Their loud voices drowned hers out, though.

 

“What’ve you done now?” Marcus muttered. There was no doubt in his mind that boy Bell was the reason for the argument.

 

It had been a long time since he had witnessed fireworks at the Bells. Unfortunately, Michael had become more bearable the last year, and rarely picked fights he couldn't win anymore, nor at school or with his family. It was rather unfortunate because he had become a steady source of amusement for Marcus over the years.

 

So, he really appreciated this going-away present, although actually hearing what they were fighting about would make it even better. It must be something exquisite seeing that John Bell needed to be restrained by Grace a few times. Michael must have mucked up more than he ever could, which was also good to know. It would ease his mother's mind to know that there were much worse sons out there.

 

He wasn’t sure how long he stood watching the Bells argue -it was long enough to soak his shoes and socks- when something else caught his waning attention. On the first floor, a squeaky window opened in a darkened room -girl Bell's room- and a broom was thrown outside.

 

“Oh, Merlin,” Marcus said with a sigh.

 

For the second time that night, he craned his neck to see what going on at his neighbours' house. More than seeing Michael getting his arse handed to him, to see girl Bell fall off her broom for the last time would be the ultimate parting gift. For someone who was a decent Chaser, she was surprisingly bad at flying outside the pitch. His hand shot up to his forehead again, touching the faint ridge she had caused.

 

Yes, she was a terrible flyer, and no one could change his mind on that.

 

The broom hovered outside the window, waiting for its owner to climb on. It didn’t take long before a white-clad leg swung over the sill. He had a feeling that this was going to end badly for her. Her broom was too far away from the ledge. With bated breath, an excited Marcus watched the rest of her clumsily clambered out the window.

 

Bell wore white ski trousers and a very thick winter coat, making her look like a fluffy wad of cotton on legs. She firmly held onto the sides of the windowsill as she slowly slid into the rain gutter. When she was sure that it'd be able to support her weight, she tentatively let go of the wooden frame, wobbled a bit, and then made a quick grab at her broom.

 

If she had asked him, Marcus could have told her that the gutter an icy place to be in this wet cold. But she didn’t. As girl Bell slightly reached forward for her broom, she slipped. Sniggering in glee, Marcus watched her fingers flick the wood of the handle, pushing it further from her grasp. Her arms began flailing in a poor attempt to regain her balance. Her eyes grew large in panic and before Marcus could blink twice, she tumbled down to the ground and landed face first with a muffled ‘oomph’ in the snow and practically disappearing into it.

 

“Ow,” Marcus groaned and flinched on her behalf. She was covered in snow, barely visible with her white clothes and hat on.

 

Downstairs in the kitchen, the older Bells stopped their arguing and peered outside to see what was going on. John rushed to the door and threw it open, his wand ready to hex the person who had dared to trespass.

 

Marcus quickly took a step back before someone saw him. Getting in one piece to Portugal was his top priority at the moment, more than pointing the man in his daughter’s direction. He couldn’t fix everything for everyone, could he?

 

“Who’s there?” John called out. Behind him, Michael and Grace peered over his shoulder, ready to assist their father and husband.

 

Of course, they didn't see anything. Finding someone dressed in white clothes in the snow was near impossible, even with girl Bell just a few feet away from them. Although, Marcus was sure that Michael had seen her. He had a sly smirk on his face as he stared at the lump in the snow not far from the door while his parents looked the other way. Leave it to the idiot to ignore his sister when it mattered the most.

 

“Must have been a stray cat,” John concluded after a few minutes of and rushed his family back inside.

 

“Yeah,” Marcus heard Michael agree before the door shut, “It’s probably that skinny one-eyed alley cat prowling again. We ought to set some traps to catch it.”

 

Marcus waited a little longer before he got closer to the hedge again. The lump in the snow, also known as girl Bell, still lay there, unmoving. He debated whether he should leave her there or go and pull her out himself. Eventually, he decided to go and get her. It would probably kill his career if someone were to find that he'd let a girl drown in the snow. Saving her would make him a hero; he’d make sure to point that out to the nosey reporters in the future.

 

Stealthily as he could, he pushed through the shrubbery into the Bells' garden and sneaked over to the lump.

 

“Bell,” he hissed and waited a few seconds. When no reaction came, he hissed again. “Oi, Bell.”

 

The lump moved, snow sliding to the sides as Katie raised herself up. Leaning on her elbows, she shook her head.

 

“Wot?” she whispered.

 

“Are you getting up, or what?”

 

“What,” she replied and dropped her face back into the snow.

 

Marcus folded his arms, unsure of what to do now. Leave her here or pull her out? He looked over his shoulder at her house in contemplation. He could warn them that girl Bell was trying to swim in the snow, but then he would have to explain why he was out here in the first place. They’d call his parents because they’d think he was a peeping Tom and before you knew it, he’d be arguing with his parents again and sneaking off to Portugal would become next to impossible.

 

Sighing in resignation, he leant down and grabbed the back her coat to pull her up. She feebly protested when she landed on her knees and gazed around in a daze. Marcus looked her over to ensure she was all right. For the first time in his life, that he could remember, he really studied her.

 

Her face was red from the cold, and a few wet wisps stuck against her cheeks. He tried to see if her pupils were dilated like Madam Hooch used to do with him whenever he took a Bludger to the head, but couldn’t see anything out the ordinary. It was a bit difficult to tell if her eyes were that dark of their own, or if she was brain damaged. He leant in to look better. Well, her eyes might look a bit glassier than usual, he reckoned, but not knowing her that well, he couldn’t be sure.

 

“Are you alright?”

  

“I fell,” she simply stated and stared up, lazily gesturing with her hands. “Out the window. Broom, whoosh. Ouch.”

 

“Yes, whoosh, ouch,” Marcus agreed slowly. Maybe, she'd hit her head a lot harder than he'd first thought. She was sure acting stranger than usual. “You should go back inside before you catch a cold.”

 

For a long time, or it felt like that, Katie gawked at him as if he had sprouted a second head. Then she leant in closer, squinting and her lips curled up in concentration as if she was trying to figure out who he was.

 

“You’re Flint. What are you doing here this time of night?” she finally asked as she scrambled up and immediately got in his face again.

 

“Saving your arse.” Her staring unnerved him, and he took a step back, which she countered by taking a wobbly step closer.

 

"Hoh..."

 

“You can thank me later. You should go inside now,” he tried to shoo her away, but she stood her ground. He'd said it once, and he would say it again; girl Bell was a strange girl, no doubt about it.

 

Katie scoffed and took another step closer. “No.”

 

“No, what?”

 

She passed by him, bumping his shoulder in the process and looked up at the house again as she held out her hand. “I’m not going back just yet. Broom, down.”

 

Brain damaged or not, Marcus had to admit that her summoning skills were impressive. Her broom zoomed down to her feet and hung perfectly still in the air. It had taken him years to get the hang of it and occasionally still managed to get hit in the face.

 

“I’m going out for a fly,” Katie declared as if it were the most natural thing to do in the middle of a snowy night. Clearly, in her mind, it was. She mounted her broom, not even bothering to dry herself.

 

"What? Now?"

 

“I’ve never flown at night,” she began explaining and then stopped when a snowflake fell on her nose. “Oh, look, snow!”

 

Marcus opened his mouth to tell her off for wanting to fly in wet clothes but closed it again when he wondered why he should care. “Suit it yourself, then. Don’t come complaining to me when you freeze to death.”

 

“I’d be too dead to complain, wouldn’t I?” she quipped and got ready to take off, wriggling her bum to get comfortable.

 

“Knowing your sort, you’ll probably come back to haunt me.”

 

Katie stuck out her tongue and kicked off into the air. Marcus watched her fly a few yards into the night, over the property boundaries, and take a sharp turn to the left and disappear. A high-pitched shriek followed soon after.

 

“Stupid bint,” he muttered and did what every self-respecting teenager would do; he went to check if she hadn’t died. The idea of her haunting him made him uncomfortable.

 

A brilliant plan formed in Marcus’ mind as he jogged to where she was.It didn’t happen often, and when it did, it was rarely useful. The simple solution to his problem was right there, wrapped around a tree. She had a broom, which was perfect for taking him to one of his friends’ houses for the night. And if he was really, really lucky, she’d also have a wand handy for casting Heating Charms.

 

It was stupid, made him dependent on a deranged Gryff, and he might be risking his life. However, as it was, he had his heart set on taking the portkey to Portugal without his parents interfering. Girl Bell was his chance.

 

“Oi, Bell, you still alive?”

 

***

 

“Can we go now?” Marcus complained, again. Something he had been doing every other minute for the past half hour.

 

“Give me another minute,” Katie answered with a sigh. She sat against a tree, her broom perched next to her, trying to catch her breath as she clutched her head.

 

Falling from a respectable height for a second time in a short span of time had been rough on her body. Her aching head hated her at the moment and Marcus’ pacing up and down didn’t help at all, neither did the fact that he was holding her wand, casting enough Heating Charms on himself to rival the Saharan heat. It would have been nice if he had thought about her as well. Her arse was freezing.

 

“Can you sit down? You’re making me dizzy.”

 

Marcus stopped his pacing and looked down at her. “No. Look, can’t I just borrow your broom? I need to go already.”

 

“No, sit down first if you want me to give you a lift. I’m dying here.”

 

“Now you know how it feels. Not so much fun when it happens to you, is it?” he retorted as he plopped down next to her.

 

“You can handle it better since your skull is thicker than mine.” She winced as she rubbed the bump on her head. Merlin’s pants, that hurt. “I’m fragile and all.”

 

“Sure you are. You’re fragile whenever it’s convenient for you,” Marcus mocked. “I’ve seen you take a few Bludgers. You’re not fragile.”

 

“The game against Slytherin.” Katie smiled, positively glowing at the concealed sort of compliment. It was a good thing he couldn’t see her face in the position she was in now. “You know, Montague is a beast; he did that on purpose.”

 

“Of course, he did, that’s his job as a Beater. He’s a good one, too. Better than those Weasels anyway.”

 

“Weasley,” Katie corrected him. “Fred and George aren’t that bad.

 

“Weasels.” Marcus' lips curled up in derision. “Those two can’t take anything serious for more than two seconds. I’d have never allowed them on my team.”

 

“They play very well,” Katie insisted, “Ollie only chooses the best players.”

 

“Ollie,” Marcus mimicked her in a shrill voice. He wanted to say that it ought to say something that Wood had picked her as well but decided against it. He needed her broom, after all. “Wood's a tosser.”

 

“Don't be a twat.” Closing her eyes, she dropped her head back against the tree. Thankfully, the pounding inside her skull was easing down to a dull ache. A few more minutes and she'd be able to give flying another go.

 

As unobtrusive as possible, she glanced at Marcus from the corner of her eyes. He had his knees pulled up and twirling her wand while he stared at something in the distance in boredom. It was strange to have him sit next to her and talk in normal fashion to her. Although she knew he needed something, she couldn’t help but wonder why he didn’t just walk into his house and get his broom and wand. How bad must he have cocked up with his parents that he’d rather ask her for help than to face them?

 

The question was on her lips, curiosity burning now that her physical pains were subsiding, but Marcus managed to start his inquest first,

 

“What did your brother do now?”

 

“What do you mean?”

 

“The fight in your kitchen. You must have heard it.”

 

“Oh, that,” she muttered and thought it over for a second. The news was bound to spread in the morning as it was, might as well tell Flint now. “Micky was supposed to help in the butchery today. Daddy worked all night to, uhm, prepare the geese for Christmas, yeah? When the customers came to pick up their orders, Michael, uhm, he hexed the orders.”

 

Marcus frowned, not sure if heard her correctly. “He hexed the orders? The geese? How?”

 

Katie cleared her throat. “Uhm, yeah, well, he made them come to life again, flying and dancing around the customers, with chopped off heads and blood and all. There were a lot of young kids in the shop. Dad thinks they’re traumatised for life. A lot of people are cross with Dad, and he is cross with Mickey for that.”

 

“Oh, that’s…bad.” Marcus felt guilty for laughing, but he had to give it to boy Bell, it was a brilliant joke.

 

Katie scowled at hearing him chuckle. “It’s not funny! Dad could lose the shop if the customers don’t return.”

 

“Were the customers Muggles?”

 

“No, does it matter?”

 

“Then they’ll come back,” Marcus answered, still sniggering. “We’re all magical here, Bell. Those kids are bound to see things much worse than flying, headless geese. You know, everything at Hogwarts, for example.”

 

“Oh, yeah.” Katie had to admit that he had a point there. Hogwarts, with the many ghosts wandering the corridors or Hagrid and his magical creatures, was much worse than headless geese dancing around. “Mickey deserves to be told off, though. He’s becoming an arse again.”

 

“Again?” Marcus scoffed. “He’s always been an arse.”

 

Smiling, Katie faintly shook her head; she couldn’t argue with him on that. Her brother had his good moments, but mostly he didn't.

 

They fell into a comfortable silence. After a little while, she dared another glance in his direction. He was staring at his house with a wistful look on his face. She decided that she wanted to know what was going on with the Flints. It was only fair after she'd told him about the goings on with hers.

 

“Why are you talking to me, anyway? Why don’t you just to inside and grab what you need?”

 

A deep scowl creased Marcus’ forehead. “That’s none of your business.”

 

Katie huffed at the sudden change in demeanour. Boys were weird; she had no other words for it. Oliver, her brother, and now Flint: strange, mad, and bonkers. “Right. Forget about the lift, then.”

 

“No, you’ve promised. I need to get to Higgs’ house,” Marcus objected and jumped up to resume his pacing. “You said you’d help me. I can just take your broom and fly away, you know.”

 

“My Dad is a butcher,” Katie threatened. She had always wanted to use that line and see the effect of it on others.

 

“So, my dad is a stonemason. What’s that got to do with anything?”

 

“Nothing,” she mumbled in disappointment. The films had lied to her again. “Look, I think I’ll go back home now. My head still hurts.”

 

That did the trick. As Katie tried to get up, the rush of dizziness and snow didn’t make it any easier, Marcus lightly pushed her back on her bum and waggled his finger at her.

 

“Fine. But you can’t tell anyone.”

 

Katie’s eyes widened, and she had to refrain herself from clapping her hands in excitement. She loved secrets, simply adored them. Instead of embarrassing herself like an overly excited puppy, she patted the spot next to her. When he settled down, the obligatory huffing and eye rolling included, she eagerly turned to face him. Merlin, this must be how Rita Skeeter felt whenever she dug her claws into a new story.

 

“Well, go on,” she urged when he remained silent too long for her liking.

 

“Keep your knickers on,” Marcus snapped and moved a bit to rummage in his pocket. He pulled out the tin and held it up to show her.

 

“No, thank you.” Katie licked her lips to make they weren’t as chapped as Flint was insinuating.

 

“I’m not giving it to you, you bint. Guess what it is.”

 

She leant in and studied the tin. Holly Chapperony Lip Balm Coconut, she had the strawberry flavoured one in her room. Apparently, it had other functions as well. She looked up in question, shrugging.

 

“It’s a portkey. Tomorrow morning at eight, it’ll take me to the Braga Broomfleet’s offices,” he announced.

 

“Braga Broomfleet…” Katie trailed off. She remembered that name from somewhere. Hadn’t Oliver been in a craze about them just before the summer? Something-something about scouts and them visiting the magical schools around Europe. Then it clicked.

 

“They’ve offered you the spot?” she asked in amazement. Oliver had been raving for weeks about how certain he was that Broomfleet was going to offer him a contract. This was surely going to make him cry.

 

Marcus nodded proudly and tucked the tin back into his pocket. “Yeah, training starts right after New Year’s.”

 

“After New Year- Hey, aren’t you supposed to sit for your N.E.W.T.’s this year?” She couldn’t imagine Dumbledore allowing Flint to travel up and down to Portugal in his exam year.

 

Marcus shrugged, although she had managed to get straight to the heart of the fight he had with his parents. They insisted that he'd take his exams first, forgetting the whole ‘if you can’t start in January, we’ll choose someone else’ clause in the Broomfleet contract.

 

“I’m going to sit for them. Just not at Hogwarts. The club said that I could take them at the British embassy this summer.”

 

It wasn’t a lie, even if his parents thought it was. He already had the dates and times he was supposed to take his exams at the embassy. The club’s scout had said he’d even get a raise if he passed his exams, some rubbish about being a role model to the younger fans.

 

“Oh, so you’re quitting school. Congrats, I guess. Your parents must be…happy?”

 

Now it was Marcus turn to drop his head back against the tree. He wanted to scoff at her question, lash out at his mum and dad, but it didn’t feel right. What felt even more wrong was to tell Bell about it, but he did,

 

“They’re furious, want me to wait ‘til after my N.E.W.T.’s. But if I don’t say yes now, I won’t get another chance. That’s why I can’t go back inside. They’ll probably lock me up the first chance they get.”

 

“I don’t understand. You have a portkey, what good would locking you up do?”

 

Marcus grimaced at that. “You think that my mum won't take it off me the minute I go back in?”

 

Katie thought about what he was saying. It was a great honour for a club to ask you to play for them; she knew that. Sweet Godric, she hoped that one day, someone would ask her to play for a club. But leaving your family like that? It seemed a bit dramatic.

 

“So, you’re running away?” Didn’t that only happen in those overly dramatic books and films?

 

This time, Marcus did scoff and scowled at her. “I’m of age, eighteen in May. It’s not running away. I’m moving out.”

 

Katie shrugged, not impressed. “Sneaking out in the middle of the night looks like running away to me.”

 

“Whatever,” he murmured. “Can we go now?”

 

“Have you left a note for them?” Katie remembered the one time she had gone out to visit Leanne in London last summer without informing her mum. By the time she had wanted to go home, her brother had locked the Floo, making her wait for hours for Leanne’s parents to get home and take her back to Tinworth. Her mum had nearly walloped her for scaring her like that. All thanks to sodding Michael.

 

Marcus shrugged again, his eyes trained on the now darkened Flint home.

 

“You really should-”

 

“Katherine Bell, where the hell are you? Show yourself right this instant!” John Bell’s angry, loud voice boomed as a bright light cut through the night, missing them by a whisker. “Katie!”

 

“Oh, shit.” In a record speed, she scrambled up and snatched her wand from Marcus’ hands. “I need to go.”

 

“No, you can’t. You’re supposed to take me to Higgs,” Marcus objected. He didn’t want to plough through the snow and risk freezing to death.

 

Katie reckoned that she must have hit her head harder than she could recall when she pushed her broom in his hands. “You can use it if you promise to tell Higgs to return it to me. It was my birthday present; I don’t want to lose it.”

 

Stunned by her gesture, Marcus blinked at her a few times before muttering his gratitude. As he took the broom from her, he realised that he had spent the past hour in the presence of the annoying little girl next door. What was even odder was that she wasn’t as annoying as he had expected her to be. Strange, yes, definitely, but not annoying. Huh, who would have guessed?

 

Katie must have had the same thought because just before she walked away, she held out her hand, smiling shyly. “It was really nice to meet you, Marcus Flint. Thank you for saving me, and good luck in Portugal. Send me an autograph when you become famous.”

 

Marcus shook her hand, a witty remark already on his lips. But before he could say anything, another of John Bell’s loud roars rang through the night. Still a bit baffled about Katie’s kindness to lend him her broom he watched her dash off in a hurry. She was nearly by the fence when she turned around.

 

“Hey, Flint? Don’t be a prick and leave without writing a note to your mum and dad,” she called out before she disappeared into the night.

 

Perhaps in vain, Marcus feebly waved her goodbye, shaking his head as he laughed.

 

***

 

When Sally Flint’s loud, heartbroken cries tore through the early morning serenity the next day, Katie learnt that Marcus Flint had left Tinworth to chase his dreams. Well, at least, he left a note behind.


	6. The first time Marcus did something nice for Katie. And surprisingly enough, she liked it.

"So, then the Healer said that I should put cabbage leaves in my bra to prevent leaking because magic and potions would sour the milk. Pass the cream, Marcus. So, I bought a cabbage on my way home and tried it. It wasn't a success, let me tell ya'. Henry refused to touch me, telling me my tits smelled too much like his mother's cooking."

Marcus stared at his fork, ready to stab his ears to end this torture. Perhaps even better, he should stick his head in the oven, next to the cooking goose. That seemed a solid plan. But first, he'd need to take revenge on his father. If someone was going to suffer more than he did today, it was going to be William Flint. 

The old codger and brothers-in-law had taken the older kids outside for a game of Quidditch without as much as asking him to tag along to keep score, leaving him alone with these bloodsucking harpies, also known as his sisters and mother. They flat-out ignored him whenever he opened his mouth to change the subject to something more light-hearted. You know, like discussing the effects of Unforgivables on Puffskeins for shits and giggles. Instead, they kept blethering on and on about the worst topics imaginable.

The five women around him had talked non-stop about their bodily functions, pregnancy ailments, and their husbands. The worst part was his mother retelling in great detail about the exciting months after sending Lexie off to Hogwarts, which had led to his conception. Marcus reckoned that he could have lived a long, long life without ever feeling the need to know that titbit. He didn't think he would able to look at his father with the same eyes ever again. There were some things in life one did not need to know about their parents. His father's love for leather in the bedroom was one of them.

"...oh, yes!" his mother cackled and clapped her hands. "Before we had Mary, I remember your father liked me to lick-"

That was it. Marcus couldn't take another story of his father's likes and dislikes without Avada-ing himself on the spot. He abruptly stood up, making his chair topple over behind him. The only good thing about the loud bang was that it managed to shut the women up for a few seconds. Five sets of grey eyes turned to him.

"What are you doing?" Ellie asked first.

Marcus swallowed slowly; he’d always felt a bit uncomfortable whenever his mum and sisters teamed up. Today was no different from the other times they had scarred him for life. They took great joy in making him feel like a little boy. 

He pointed over his shoulder. "Sorry, I thought I'd join the others... Quidditch…"

"Why? Are we boring you?" Mary frowned and folded her arms; the resemblance with their mother was a bit too uncanny for Marcus' liking. She looked as if she was going dole out a good walloping. In all honestly, he wouldn't put it past her; she was scary when angry.

"Yeah, we don't get to see you for a whole year, and when you finally decide to throw us a bone, you run away after five minutes," Ellie added in an accusing tone. "Think about Mum, you selfish prick. Would it kill you to spend some time with us?"

Marcus quickly eyed his mother; she looked crestfallen, which made him feel like an utter heel. He wasn't about to give in, though. In his mind, he'd already snapped back and told them that they should've paid attention to him if they wanted him to stay. But he knew better than to say those kinds of things aloud. Instead, he hung his head in resignation.

"I didn't mean to..."

"Shame on you, Marcus William, what kind of example are you setting for your nephews?" Lexie asked in a sad tone and held a heavily drooling baby up in the air. The little tyke was gnawing away at his fists, oblivious to his uncle and the mood change around him. "To think that I've named him after you. Don't make me regret it."

Again, Marcus had a witty rebuttal ready. The only reason she'd named her son after him was that with the number of babies his sisters had popped out of the years, they had run out of decent names. Merlin, if they didn't stop soon, Hogwarts would most likely have to reopen the abandoned parts of the castle to accommodate all his nieces and nephews. Nevertheless, like before, he hung his head again and apologised. Over the years, he had learnt from his brothers-in-law that this was the best way to deal with the Flint sisters. Brave men, they were.

"It's all right, Mum." Ellie wrapped her arm around Sally, who was dabbing her eyes. Of course, Lexie and Mary followed suit, cooing and fussing around their mother and throwing him dirty looks as they did so.

Even Ellie's youngest daughter, Rosie, who just had learnt to stand upright, looked up at her uncle with teary eyes and quivering lips. 

_'They've taught her well,'_ Marcus thought warily.

"Mummy, I didn't..." he scratched his head, not sure what it was they wanted him to say. He sure as hell hadn't wanted to make his mother cry.

A roasted chestnut hit him square in the chest. Lizzy, the only one who hadn't jumped at the chance to berate him, cocked her head at the door, silently telling him to get out. Usually, she was the most vocal one, but at more than nine months pregnant with number six, she lacked the energy and the will to do so.

When Marcus took too long to take his leave, she threw another chestnut at him. 

"I, uhm, just a f-few minutes. P-promise," he stammered and ran out the door into the snowy back garden as fast as he could.

As soon as the door shut behind him, the women burst out in laughter, practically wheezing at how uncomfortable they had made their little Marcus. It was just like old times again. Sally laughed the loudest, clapping along with the two babies, who had no idea what the fuss was all about but were happy to giggle.

"You lot are awful," Lizzy said as she shifted in her chair to find a comfortable position.

"Serves him right," Sally dismissed her. "I've spent months crying over him. A few minutes of discomfort won't hurt him."

"Discomfort? Really, Mum? Couldn't you have stuck with the labour and the tearing bits? You even made me uncomfortable with what you said about Daddy. You know I can take a lot, but that..." Lizzy pretended to gag.

"What can I say?" Sally shrugged. "You girls didn't get it from a stranger, you know. Your father, he can-"

Ellie held her hands up in protest. "For the love of Merlin woman, stop already. That's my Dad you're talking about; enough is enough."

"What does that make me then?" Sally asked as she got up to check on the Christmas goose: extra buttery and seasoned for her little boy. 

All teasing aside, Sally was glad to have him back home again. As soon as the girls left on Boxing Day, she intended to spoil Marcus rotten until he'd have to return to Portugal. Will was already dreading the day.

"A plant. That makes you plants. You and Daddy grew us through seeds," Lexie repeated the words she had taught her brother ages ago. "Sex does not exist between the two of you. Not then, not now, not ever, understand?"

Sally huffed in indignation and shook her head, wondering why they could talk about such things and she couldn't. Sighing, she looked out the window just in time to see little Katie Bell sneak up on Marcus. From where she stood, she saw the girl wring her hands, nodding as if she was reciting something. Aww, to be young again.

"Talking about plants and gardens..." Sally started as she kept her eyes on her son and their neighbour girl. "That reminds of the greenhouses at Hogwarts. The first time your father saw my knickers-"

"Mum! No!"

***

Just like a year ago today, Marcus stood ankle-deep in the snow with his hands in his pockets. As he shivered in the December cold, he realised too late that he had forgotten his coat. And like that night a year ago, he refused to go back inside. Not until his father and brothers-in-law joined him, he needed their support. Facing those wenches on his own again was not an option.

However, unlike then, he wasn't contemplating running away, nor did he bemoan his parents. Not for holding him back, anyway. Instead, he was happy to be back for a few days. Portugal was fun and all, and after the winter holiday he was to start in the first team, but it was just a country where he happened to live. Maybe, when he had more friends there and learnt to speak the language without the aid of his wand, it could become home one day.

For now, he was quite happy to watch his nieces and nephews bash their grandfather and fathers’ heads in what should have been a friendly game of Quidditch. The youngest on the ground were cheering on the teams in the air, shaking their fists and shooting off colourful sparks with their toy wands.

The eldest of the lot, Mary's thirteen-year-old daughter Emma, mercilessly kicked her father in the face to get him out of the way. As it befitted a real champion, she didn't stop to see if he was all right. Marcus puffed his chest in pride and offered her a nod of approval when she glanced in his direction. Judging by the blood trickling down her father's chin, she had broken his nose and busted his lip. Emma was the perfect Chaser for the Slytherin team; he had taught her well last year. 

"She's a real menace, plays like you too," someone said from behind him.

Startled, and a tiny bit worried that one of his sisters had come out to nag some more, he slowly turned around. 'Someone' appeared to be a wad of cotton on legs. "What?"

"Your niece, she's a menace on the pitch. You should have seen her play against Gryffindor a few weeks ago."

"Bell?"

Katie Bell, he assumed it was she by her voice, waved a mitten-covered hand in greeting. A thick woollen hat covered her head, and she had an equally thick scarf wrapped around her neck, which covered half of her face. Only her glassy eyes and flushed cheekbones were visible. She looked a bit sick, he concluded. However, what amazed him was her winter coat. It was even puffier than the one from last year, and he could practically see the magic of the Heating Charms ooze from it.

He must have stared too long because she looked down at herself in embarrassment. "Yeah, it's me. Uhm, my mum wouldn't let me go out if I didn't dress properly."

"Dress properly for what? You're heading out to the North Pole?" He pointed at the wolf fur boots she was wearing. He broke out in sweat by merely looking at her.

"It's a bit warm… But, uhm, yeah. Anyway, I need to go to the shop; Mum forgot something." Katie tried to loosen the scarf for a gust of fresh air, but her mother's charms wouldn't budge. "I, ah, had the Mumblemumps a few weeks ago and she's worried that I'll get sick again if I don't dress warm enough."

Marcus snorted, and at the same time, he tried to look over the hedge for a glimpse of Grace. He hadn't seen her yet since his return, and he couldn't wait to tell her all about his Portuguese adventure. Maybe she'd have a Chocolate Frog and hot cocoa ready for him like the old days.

"Aren't you a bit too old for the Mumblemumps?" he asked as he jumped up and down to see over the hedge. Only when Katie cleared her throat, he turned his attention to her.

"I had them last year as well. I can't seem to get rid of them," she explained. "So, uhm..."

Her expectant stare made him uncomfortable. He had to admit that again, he had no idea what he was supposed to say to her. That seemed to a happen to him a lot when it concerned women, girl Bell included. When she finally looked away, he felt an unreasonable amount of relief. To him, it meant one less thing he'd muck up today.

"Well, it was nice seeing you, but I gotta go. Uhm, errands and all, you know. Bye, Flint."

"Yeah, bye." Marcus bit his lip and puffed his cheeks when she didn't move. Dammit, she was doing that staring thing again.

"I'm off then." She took a step closer and then seemed to think better of it. In the end, she waved and dashed away.

A bit confused about what had just happened, he watched her shuffle through snow and then through the bushes into the Bell's garden. She yelled something at her mother and a few seconds later, the opening and closing of a fence followed.

Behind Marcus, cheers erupted, signalling the end of the match, but he didn't hear. His mind reeled in overtime to figure what it was he had missed. There was something bothersome about girl Bell, something tickling the very back of his brain. Not as slow as most people usually thought he was, it didn't take him too long to figure it out.

Forgetting all about his reluctance to enter the house without male backup and clueless about a very hopeful looking Emma standing next to him, Marcus ran inside and locked himself in his room.

He didn't emerge until dinnertime, and when he finally did, the smug grin on his face puzzled the rest of his family. Only Sally seemed to have an idea of what was going on, but for once, she kept her suspicions to herself. 

For now. 

Come Monday, she'd have a lot to discuss with Grace.

***

Still dressed in her pyjamas, Katie sat on the sofa on Christmas morning with a mug of hot tea in her hands. She wistfully watched the presents underneath the Christmas tree and hoped that her parents and brother would wake up soon. Her hands itched to open her gifts.

However, most of all, she was dying to head over to the Flints after breakfast to wish them a Merry Christmas and perhaps have a chat with Marcus. She wanted to hear all about what it was like to play for a professional team and all the advice he could give her to make it as far as he had. They were friends of sorts these days; it wouldn't be all too weird to have a chat and laughs. They had done it yesterday, half-arsed, but still, precedence was set. And maybe, just maybe, he'd sign her old copy of the Prophet with him on the front page. That alone would make her the envy of her schoolmates.

She could hear the gossip already: Katie Bell and Marcus Flint, friends for life.

"What are you dreaming about," her brother gruffly asked as he shuffled into the room.

Katie crinkled her nose; he smelled like he had given the pub a mopping with his body. He didn't look all too fresh either. "Not about you, that’s for sure. Merlin, Micky, what did you do last night?"

Michael shrugged. "I've had more fun than you, but that’s not that surprising."

"You should clean up before Daddy wakes up. He'll go mental if he sees you like this."

Of course, he didn't listen to her. Instead, he rolled his eyes -which he instantly regretted, and started rummaging through the cabinets in search for Sober-Up Potion. 

Katie sighed and turned her attention back to the presents underneath the tree. She wasn't about to let the great git ruin her Christmas morning. Her mind quickly drifted off to flaunting her autographed Prophet at school and driving the Slytherins mad with envy. Merlin, she'd be the girl who was friendly with an international Quidditch star.

Her daydreams were crudely interrupted by a piece of cracker colliding with the back of her head. She quickly turned around to tell her brother off, but he beat her to it.

"Open the window already, you bint," Michael snapped. "The noise is killing me."

"What noise? I think that's your hangover speaking," Katie retorted and turned around to face the tree again.

Even if the Sober-Up Potions worked in time, she was still going to snitch on Michael to their father. That ought to teach him not to throw crackers at her. Another two years stood in her way of hexing him on her own without consequences. She had already marked the day on her calendar. Until then, she depended on her parents to do that for her. 

Now, where was she?

Oh, yes. She was just about to announce in the Great Hall that she was friends with Marcus Flint when another cracker hit the back of her head and crumbled down her pyjama top.

"Fuck, Micky. Stop doing that."

Michael raised his brows in surprise. "Mind your language, sissy, or I'll tell Mum you're mumbling. She'll love to swaddle you again."

"You wouldn't." Knowing Michael, he probably would. That's why she had to beat him to it and snitch before he did.

"Try me."

Brother and sister battled in silence, glaring their foulest glare to assert dominance. As usual, Michael was winning, but before Katie could burst out in giggles like she always did, she finally heard what he had been pestering her about. A russet coloured owl with a small parcel attached to its leg sat on the windowsill, impatiently pecking at the glass.

"Oh, look, more presents. Why didn't you say so?" Katie padded over to the window to relieve the bird from its burden.

Excited at the prospect of more gifts, she hastily undid the package from the owl's leg, and since it was too fat already, she shooed it away without giving it a treat. To her surprise and joy, her name was on the package. Who would send her something like this? Careful not to activate any traps -it could be Michael's idea of a gift, after all- she shook it by her ear. There was no rattling or hissing; it seemed to be genuine.

Briefly, Katie debated whether to put it under the tree with the other gifts or not and decided against it. For all she knew, it wasn't a real Christmas present, and she was getting her hopes up for nothing. 

Impatiently, she tore the brown paper off. A simple, light coloured wooden box appeared from underneath. Her name was carved into the lid. She ran her finger over the rough surface, debating to open it now or later. Not able to curb her curiosity any longer, she decided to go for it. As soon she lifted the lid, a thick cloud of pixie dust covered her and most of the living room.

Michael, who had forgotten all about his sister and only cared for his soul-sucking hangover, was just pouring a cup of tea for himself when a high-pitched squeal worsened the pain in his head. Startled by the ungodly sound, he sloshed the hot water over his hand, which made him meet her shrieks. 

He had his choice of curse words ready for her. "You stupid twatwaffle, what was that for?"

Katie, shimmering from head to toe, didn't hear him. All she had eyes for was the cheap, simple frame in her hand. In particular, the photograph within. Underneath a curly autograph, a floppy-haired Marcus Flint winked and flashed his signature crooked-teethed grin at her over and over again. It was an even better than the picture in the Prophet. The small note stuck underneath one of the corners read the best message someone could have given her.

_'As promised._

_See, now that I'm sort of famous, I still remember you, Katie Bell._

_Thank you for helping me out last year.'_

She squealed again when she realised that the first part of her dream had come true. All that remained now was to talk to him in person like the old friends they were. She couldn't wait to go over to the Flints today.

Unfortunately, Christmas that year didn't pan out as Katie had hoped. By lunchtime, she and her parents found the Flint home deserted. A short note pinned to the door the only clue where the whole clan had gone off to; St. Mungo’s. 

Lizzy had finally gone into labour.


	7. The first time Marcus decided that he liked what he saw. Or absence makes the heart grow fonder and all that nonsense.

“Have another biscuit, love; you’re too skinny. What were they feeding you at Hogwarts? You’re wasting away!” Sally Flint rambled, miffed that Hogwarts had turned her neighbour girl into a stick figure. The poor girl was nothing but pointy knees and elbows in her opinion, and it was not a good look on her.

 

Eighteen-year-old Katie murmured a thank you and took another chocolate biscuit from the tray held in front of her. The enthusiasm in which she had started on the treats earlier had waned, and as she tried to remember how many she had already eaten, a slight ache formed in her stomach. Nevertheless, she bravely continued munching, albeit a little less eager than before. Upsetting Sally would ruin her carefully constructed plans.

 

Those plans were the only reason that she was here in the Flint kitchen today just a mere day since returning from Hogwarts for good. It had nothing to do with a sudden bout eagerness to see her neighbours, but all the more with other things. At least, that was what she had told her suspicious mother, who hadn’t believed her. Not that it mattered what her mother thought of motives. She was here now, and just as she had hoped, the first part of her well-crafted plan was slowly coming to fruition. True, it wasn't the most difficult part; teatime at noon with Sally Flint was a given in her mother’s daily routine.

 

So, here she sat at the Flint kitchen table, watching the Flint sisters quarrel about which decorations needed to go where and eating her weight in chocolate biscuits. All she had to do now was to steer the conversation in the direction of their son and brother, who was set to return to England later that day. And somehow, that turned out to be the most difficult part. None of the women mentioned him, not once, not even in passing. How they managed to do that while preparing for his welcome-home-party was beyond her.

 

The realisation that she might have to let go of the idea of having a chat with Flint slowly took hold of her. It seemed to be the theme when it came to him. Since Christmas three years earlier, she hadn’t seen or talked to him. Each time he'd dropped by, she had been at school, and when she wasn't, the Flints had gone to Portugal to visit him.

 

“You better be here tonight,” she muttered. When she noticed her mother scowling at her, she pointed at her throat. “Better get out,” she hastily said, which, judging by the deepening of the wrinkle between her mother’s brows, didn’t help at all. “Crumbles…stuck. Yeah.”

 

To make it more believable, she cleared her throat a few more times and took a large gulp of her pumpkin juice before she ducked her head. It was a simple question she needed to ask, nothing more than a ‘can I come over tonight to ask Flint a question’ kind of question. As she scratched behind her ear, Katie realised that she ought to use his first name to avoid confusion since there were bound to be many Flints here tonight.

 

She slyly peeked at the small, wrinkled piece of paper in her hand. She had penned down her questions she wanted to ask to make sure she wouldn't forget anything. It was simple, really; only one team had invited her to try out, which happened to be his new team, and she needed all the help she could get to make the cut with flying colours and become a successful Quidditch player. If she played her cards right, he might be inclined to put in a good word for her for old times’ sake -she had helped him on his way to Portugal, after all- and the Tornadoes would offer her a contract. Before you knew it, she'd be famous, and all the clubs in the world would be toppling over each other to sign her on.

 

“He’s the new Captain; of course, he’ll do that for me. That’s what neighbours are for,” she mumbled barely audible and nodded to herself as she took a bite off on another biscuit.

 

Yes, to become as successful as he was the only reason she wanted to join the Flints’ family reunion tonight, she told herself. It wasn’t as if her crooked-teethed neighbour had intrigued her from afar with his non-handsomeness in the past three years. She didn’t like the newest pictures of him printed in the Prophet, of which she had two copies. There was nothing exciting about having him flex his muscles in his swimming shorts on a Portuguese beach over and over again. There was absolutely nothing appealing about him. No. Ridiculous even to suggest otherwise.

 

“Who’d want to look at that?” she muttered to herself and took another bite.

 

Nevertheless, just in case she failed to worm herself into the party tonight, she ought to run home and grab one of the copies so the old girl could ask him to sign it for her. The framed and signed photograph he had given her the last time had made her the envy of most of her schoolmates. Only being a direct relative had trumped that. 

 

“Katie!”

 

“Wot?”

 

Muttering under her breath, her mother shook her head while Sally shoved another tray with biscuits in her hands, smiling expectantly. Katie cleared her throat and offered a stilted, toothy grin as she took another one.

 

“Thank you,” she said, cursing herself for the missed opportunity. The next time Mrs Flint offered her something, she vowed to ask her about Fli- uh, Marcus.

 

But, in all honesty, Sally Flint didn’t help with her growing nerves. The way she kept hovering around in a sudden quest to fatten her in a matter of hours only frustrated her plans to steer the conversation in Flint’s direction. The woman had never shut up about her son before, so why was she now.

 

Then there was her own mother, who kept glancing at her as if she didn’t want her here. Just as she was doing now. Katie raised her brows and mouthed a ‘what’, which earned her a roll of the eyes.

 

“So, Katie, how have you been?” Lexie sighed as she slumped down in a chair and made a grab at the tray of biscuits. “How’s your summer going so far?”

 

“Good, good,” she answered with her mouth full of crumbs, grateful that someone tried to converse with her. Maybe, this was the right time to ask if she could tag along tonight.

 

“Only good?” Mary asked as she, too, took a break. “You’re what, eighteen? At your age, your summer should be more than ‘good’, love.”

 

Katie slowed her chewing, afraid that she had misheard over the crunching in her mouth. “What do you mean?”

 

“Boys! A lot of them!” Lizzy called from the other room where she tried to figure out why the colourful ‘welcome home’ banners her two youngest had made wouldn’t stick. “You do like boys, don’t you?”

 

“Aww, eighteen-year-old boys,” Ellie chimed in from the sofa while she silently kept countering Lizzy’s Stickying Charms. “Horny buggers they were when we were your age, couldn’t keep their hands to themselves. Are they still, Katie? Emma says they’re all wankers, but then again, she’s like her mother: too picky and uptight.”

 

At the mention of her daughter, Mary snorted and she snatched the last biscuit, which earnt her swat with a spatula. “There’s nothing wrong with that. A girl needs to have standards or she’ll end up with the first knob that gets into her knickers. Don’t you think so, Katie?”

 

Katie opened and closed her mouth a few times, not sure how to answer. What standards and what did they have to do with her? At this stage in her life, she'd take anyone who showed her some interest.

 

“Yeah, ah, right. Boys…horny buggers with standards?” she stammered uncomfortably.

 

What did she know about all that? Those buggers sure didn’t flock around her, which she blamed on her brother. Of course, that arse had to go and become Snape’s Potions Apprentice, giving out detentions to every boy who had dared to talk to her. Sometimes, she wondered whether he honestly was interested in Potions or if he was training with Snape to become the world’s vilest person so he could torment her even more than he had already done so far.

 

Lexie waggled her brows. “So, are there any good looking blokes for grabs this summer?”

 

‘They grab each other,’ Katie wanted to say. Her mind immediately wandered to the time she had caught Oliver kissing that Hufflepuff boy under a lost wisp of mistletoe during Easter holiday in her fifth year. Yeah, that had ruined any lingering romantic ideas she might have had for him. It still angered her that Oliver had preferred to kiss a Hufflepuff, forget about him being a boy, instead of her. So, she answered what every self-respecting girl would say,

 

“No, but I’d like to. Grab, I mean. Very, very much so.”

 

“Oh, Merlin’s sagging balls, you didn’t just say that.” Grace dropped her hands in her hand, cursing under her breath. The Flint sisters burst out in laughter, and Katie awkwardly joined in, unsure about what she had said to make them laugh. She wasn’t even sure if they were laughing with her or at her.

 

“Leave the poor girl alone,” Sally warned her daughters as she waved her spatula around to silence them. “Behave, you hear? Katie’s not the same as you lot.”

 

“You say that as if there’s something wrong with us,” Mary retorted as poured tea for her sisters.

 

“Not all girls are how you four were nor should they strive to be.” Sally offered Katie an apologetic smile as she pushed another biscuit in her hand. The poor thing looked starved compared to her girls and granddaughters. She was practically skin and bones.

 

“You can’t complain, old woman. You’ve raised us,” Lizzy pointed out as she smacked Ellie upside her head for sabotaging her decorating efforts. “According to you, we’re like you and Dad. Come to think of it, you two were much worse. I mean, none of us was up the duff on our last train ride home from Hogwarts.”

 

Mary hummed in agreement without looking up from the sugar pot, the tips of her ears a bright red. Some things were better left unsaid.

 

“Yeah, we've always been honest about everything,” Lexie chimed in. Mary nudged her ribs, shaking her head to keep her quiet. ‘Everything’ was a bit of an exaggeration here.

 

“Did you have your first kiss yet, Katie?” Lizzy asked as she grabbed a biscuit from the tray and plopped down next to Lexie. Without waiting for an answer, she called out, “Oi, Ell, do you remember your first kiss? Who was it again?”

 

“Fourth year, with your husband,” was the deadpan answer. “He was horrible at it, tried to eat my face I tell ya’. It took me years, uhm, months- no, wait. It took me a week to try again.”

 

“Oh, yeah, you had him first,” Lizzy mused before she burst out in infectious cackles. “Merlin, he was a horrible kisser, wasn’t he? He’s better at it now, though. Less spit and teeth and all. He still bites, but I like that.”

 

Ellie made retching sounds as she walked into the kitchen and nicked one of Katie’s biscuits, ignoring Sally’s glare. “So, Katie, who had the honours?” she asked, purposely spraying crumbs around to annoy her sisters and mother.

 

“Yeah, tell us,” Lexie encouraged eagerly. “Was it with tongue or just a peck on the lips? Did they feel you up? Over or under your shirt?”

 

“Girls,” Sally sighed in exasperation. “That’ll be enough, leave her alone. Talk about something else.”

 

Katie, who had been sure that her head would explode in embarrassment, wanted to cry in gratitude and build a shrine for the older woman to worship her for the rest of her life for saving her. Instead, she shoved another biscuit in her mouth and grinned in appreciation.

 

“Fine, spoilsport,” Lizzy muttered, pouting.

 

Lexie waved off her mother’s objections and focussed on Katie. She needed the practice for when her daughters were old enough to discuss these kinds of matters with, which would be in a few short years.

 

“Come on, love. Who've you kissed and how was it? I mean, you’re eighteen, you must have had your first kiss already.”

 

Katie looked like a trapped hare facing its hunter. Her eyes couldn’t get any larger as she searched for the nearest escape route. Unfortunately, Apparition was out of the question, and the other exits were blocked, preventing a quick breakout. She broke out in a cold sweat as her mouth opened and closed. It wasn't something she wanted to discuss because, well, there was nothing to talk about. It was bad enough that her friends teased her about it, she could only imagine how that titbit of news would go with the Flint sisters.

 

“Maybe, it was a girl,” Ellie mused, tapping her chin. “I’ve kissed a girl once or twice. Not much difference when you close your eyes if you ask me.”

 

“You used to stick your tongue in anything and anyone willing, I believe you,” Lizzy said before she turned to Katie again. “Well, come on. You’ve got me curious now.”

 

Then, as if a lightbulb went off in her head, her features twisted in one of pity, and she reached out for Katie’s hand, patting the tips of her fingers. “He was a sloppy kisser, wasn’t he? Don’t let that discourage you; it gets better over time. Keep practising, s’all I can say.”

 

The Flint sisters burst out into another fit of cackles while their mother tried to hush them down. She threw Grace and Katie apologetic looks, but her neighbour just cocked her brows without cracking a reassuring smile.

 

“So, Katie,' Sally began to change the subject as she offered the poor girl another biscuit as a peace offering, 'are you still coming tonight?”

 

“Of course, she’s coming,” Lexie answered for her. When she saw the confusion on Katie’s face, she frowned. “The whole town is coming, didn’t you tell her, Grace?”

 

Grace put down her cup of tea and folded her hands in her lap. She smiled sheepishly at Katie when she remembered what she had ‘forgotten’ to tell her daughter. “There is a surprise party tonight at the Flints; you want to come with?”

 

“Mum! That’s a bit late, isn’t it?” Katie wasn’t sure if she felt relieved for not having to invite herself, or be angry with her mother for forgetting to tell her. Then again, she wasn’t about to look a gifted horse in the mouth, so she shrugged non-committedly (you had to play it cool, after all) and said, “I dunno, maybe.”

 

“Nonsense, of course, you will.” Sally dropped the whole tray on the table and shoved it in Katie’s direction. “Eat some more, sweetheart. Marcus would love to see you, you know. He always asks about you in letters.”

 

“He does? Since when?” Lizzy asked puzzled. She had read all her brother’s scribblings, and she couldn’t remember him ever asking about Katie. Nor had he mentioned her during visits, not even once. She turned to her sisters. All three shrugged, as bewildered as she was.

 

“Yes, he does.” Sally held up her spatula, a silent warning. “He always asks about her.”

 

“Oh, right, he does.” Mary and Lexie agreed hesitantly, not sure where their mother was going with this.

 

“Yeah, he always asks about you.” Ellie chimed in, a little more convincing than her sisters were. Unlike the others, Katie's blush and faint smile hadn’t escaped her, and it took a lot of effort not to roll her eyes. It seemed like they had a fangirl on their hands, and for some reason, their mother approved of this one.

 

“Really? That's kind of him,” Katie murmured, purposely ignoring her mother’s sighs of whatever her problem was.

 

Flint had asked about her, who would have guessed. Pleased, she squared her shoulders. Perhaps, he'd even explicitly told his mother to invite her to his party. To prepare her for the try-out, of course, what else? “I’d love to come tonight.”

 

“Good girl,” Sally said in relief as she whacked Ellie with the spatula for sniggering. “You should wear that blue dress your mother made.”

 

“What blue dress?” Katie nudged her mother, who was busy studying the tealeaves on the bottom of her cup. “Mum, what dress?”

 

Grace threw Sally a nasty look, much to the hilarity of the sisters, and didn’t back off when her neighbour returned the sentiment. Without breaking the eye contact, she eventually answered, “About that, I was working on a dress. But it isn't-”

 

Katie was already out the door. She was going to a party. In honour of a Quidditch star to boot, and she had a new dress. There wasn’t much more she needed to hear.

 

As soon as the door closed, Grace waggled her finger at Sally. “You’ll pay for this.”

 

“Bring it on.” Sally crossed her arms in defiance. “I told you last Easter not to thwart me.”

 

Lizzy, just as confused as her sisters and very much enjoying the standoff between the older women, wrung her hands in eagerness. It had been too long since she had seen an old-fashioned hag-fight.

 

“So, what did we miss and how can we make it worse?”

 

***

Later that night, dressed in the blue dress her mother had begrudgingly worked the whole afternoon on to finish, Katie stood together with Marcus Flint’s family and friends by the Floo to welcome him home.

 

Colourful banners and decorations hung across the small living room, and there was enough food to feed a small army. The excitement in the air only added to her own. And no matter how hard he tried his best, even Micky’s snide comments couldn’t deter her good mood. She was about to party with an international Quidditch star; nothing could ruin that.

 

When the time came for the hearth to spit out the guest of honour, she clutched onto her small bag, which held a small notepad and a quill. She’d be damned not to jolt down every bit of advice and information he could give her to make her try-out a success. Maybe, he'd give her another autograph for the collection she was planning to start.

 

The only thing was, Marcus Flint never showed up.

 

***

 

Twenty-two-year-old Marcus Flint found himself slouched in his chair in the Tutshill Tornadoes' skybox, trying to survive his massive hangover. His tongue felt like a dried-out sponge and each time he blinked it felt as if someone had thrown sand mixed with red peppers in his eyes. Those two inconveniences were nothing compared to the revolt that was going on inside his skull, though, which would be his brain trying to disengage itself from the rest of his Ogden’s infested body. Being too tired, or lazy, to lift up his arm and look through them, his Omnioculars hang limply in is hand, his fingers twitching now and then on their own accord.

 

As the newly appointed Captain for the Tornadoes, the youngest since the founding of the team, he knew he ought to pretend to use the copper viewers, but the lenses intensified the outside light too much for his poor, tortured eyes and subsequently, his brain. Just for the form, he did lift it up now and then and muttered unintelligibly as if he saw something interesting. He also had a clipboard on his lap to add to the illusion that he was working. The parchment was full of listlessly scribbled doodles.

 

From afar, one would even think it was actual writing. Too knackered (and in honesty, his hand trembled too much from the alcohol to draw a straight line) to jolt down anything sensible, he could only hope that he’d be able to babble his way out of it later. And if he couldn’t, well, he’d probably be the first Captain in Quidditch history to be sacked before the season had even started.

 

In short, he was having a no-good, pain in the arse rotten day. And the worst of all? It had just begun.

 

They still had four hours to go, he noticed after a quick glance at his coach’s watch. Or eight hours, he couldn’t be too sure when everything around him was still spinning.

 

He had set foot on English soil less the twenty-four hours ago after more than three years of absence and thanks to his friends he had celebrated his permanent return accordingly.

 

Higgs and Pucey had been waiting just outside the International Portkey Room at the Ministry and had grabbed him as soon as the door had opened. They had organised a Firewhisky-tasting at his new flat (which he hadn’t seen before yesterday). The tasting had turned into guzzling, and the next thing he remembered was his mother screeching by his ear less than two hours ago. If she hadn't, he probably would have slept another solid day or so.

 

Marcus groaned as he thought of facing his mother and her fury again tonight. There was no doubt in his mind that his father and sisters were riling her up at this very instant for the maximum effect, and she had already been spitting fire this morning. No worse, she had been disappointed in him and hadn’t had any trouble expressing how much, which only made him feel shoddier than he already felt. He made a mental note to buy her flowers and bring a bottle of leftover Firewhisky for his father before he joined them for supper. It was the least he could do for not showing up to the party they had organised for him last night.

 

A big yawn escaped him as he stretched out lazily. Thank Merlin, his new coach was too busy with the goings on in the pitch to pay any attention to him. He’d die for some Sober-Up Potion and kip, but that had to wait at least another few hours. Apparently, being Captain also meant that he had to feign interest in the try-outs for the new reserve-players. Since his bed was out of the question, he would have rather been on the pitch, to be honest. He knew from experience that the wind and fresh air would do wonders for his hangover. But coach Ruckus had told him that he didn’t want his star player to get hurt at the hands of inexperienced boys and girls. Marcus was pretty sure that Ruckus was afraid of the opposite happening. There was a reason Braga had refused to prolong his contract. He shook his head as he mumbled,

 

“Kick a bloke or two off their broom, and everyone thinks you’re a killer. They only broke their necks.”

 

In the chairs next to him, Higgs and Pucey were whispering to each other, the sound of it grating on his nerves and patience. They were supposed to suffer alongside him; that was the only reason he had invited them along. But the bastards had been glued to their Omnioculars, so enthralled with the try-out and seemingly suffering much less than he was.

 

“What are you two hags whispering about?” he snapped and immediately threw a glance at Ruckus. Luckily, the old man was still too busy to pay any attention to him.

 

“Nothing, nothing,” Higgs muttered without taking his eyes off the pitch. He reached out to pat Marcus’ head, missing and patting his cheek instead. “Don’t worry about us and do your work, mate.”

 

Other than an annoyed hush-sound, Adrian kept quiet as he adjusted his viewers to have a better look. Marcus wanted to tell them off, but as it was, he was too tired to come up with a valid reason. So, forgetting about it, for now, he settled back into his chair and wondered if someone would notice if he closed his eyes for a few seconds.

 

Just as he was about to drift off, Adrian and Terence began whispering again. This time, he could hear what they were saying. Or at least, what Adrian was saying.

 

“I’d do her, repeatedly.”

 

Marcus snapped his eyes open, not used to hear his friend talk like that. If someone was as the moral compass between them three, it was Adrian the Saint. The girl must be a real looker for him to break his own rules.

 

It only got worse when Terence pitched in. “I bet she’s got a great set of tits under that shirt. Oh, man, look at that arse.” He reached out his free hand, cupping it as if measuring something. “Little girls do grow up.”

 

Marcus, never the one to pass up on an opportunity to ogle a beautiful witch (which, sadly, was pretty much the only sort of action he could count on), found the will to bring his Omnioculars to his eyes and actually look through them. To his great fortune, the final whistle had just blown, and the wannabees were making their way down to the grass.

 

As far as he could see, there wasn’t an extraordinary witch between them. Although he had to admit, the brunette with the long ponytail looked familiar. If only she’d turn around, so he could see her face to be sure.

 

“Who are you gaping at,” he quietly asked after he made sure that Ruckus still wasn’t paying attention.

 

There wasn’t an immediate reply; both Higgs and Pucey were too transfixed on whoever they were watching. As being ignored was one the few (or many, depending on who you asked) things Marcus did not like, he kicked Terence in the shins. That had the desired effect.

 

“Ow! What you do that for?” Higgs hissed as he rubbed his leg. “Let a bloke enjoy the view for once, will you.”

 

“I want to enjoy too. Who are you two watching?”

 

“Little Bell,” Pucey answered dreamily without looking up from his viewers. “She isn’t that little anymore, though.”

 

Terence grunted in agreement. After an evil look in Marcus’ direction, he turned his attention to the pitch again, nodding in appreciation as soon as he found the girl he had been watching earlier.

 

It took a minute for Marcus’ Firewhisky drenched brain to process what his friends were saying. Ickle Bell? That annoying little Gryffindor from next door? No, maybe not so annoying anymore. She had helped him out, after all. There was no way that she could make his friends drool like this. They had high standards and all.

 

Curious to what the commotion was all about, and hoping that he'd be able to tease them about how wrong they were, he gazed through his Omnioculars again. He still didn’t see girl Bell anywhere. The pitch had emptied for the second group and only the chit with the long brown hair and a blond boy, whose eyes were glued to her chest, had stayed behind. It couldn’t be her because as far as he remembered, Bell was flatter than his mother’s ironing board. There was nothing to look at.

 

“Well, where is Bell?”

 

He didn’t have to wait long for an answer because, at that moment, the brown haired girl turned around. He knew that face. To ensure that he wasn’t in hallucinating due to too much alcohol, he looked down at his clipboard. He had doodled through the names and numbers listed, which made it harder for him to decipher what they read. Finally, a few squints and skull cracking concentration later, the letters and numbers stopped dancing. There it was, loud and clear. Number forty-seven: Katie Bell.

 

“My, my, my, would you look at that.” Suddenly, Marcus was a lot more eager to go home tonight. Perhaps, he could convince his mum to invite the Bells over for a drink, or two, or three. Girl Bell had definitely grown up, and he for one couldn’t wait to get reacquainted again.

 

Hopefully, he’d get his chance before the two sods next to him decided to take action.


	8. The first time Marcus tries to woo Katie. And despite it not going according to plan, he almost strikes gold.

At twenty-two, Marcus was aware that his experience with the opposite sex was lacking. Seriously lacking, the sort of not-even-a-peck-on-the-lips kind of lacking. And he for one wasn’t sure why. He had the money (not enough to stop working yet), he had the looks (according to his mum and sisters. His nieces and friends refused to comment on it when asked, though), and he was the perfect gentleman (which not everyone agreed on, but you couldn’t please them all).

 

Unfortunately, with all that he had going for him, the lady birds still ran in the opposite direction, screaming their lungs out whenever they saw him coming. Figuratively speaking, of course. Although, it had happened once in his fourth year at Hogwarts. Then again, that one didn’t count because Melanie Bulstrode wouldn’t recognise a real man even if she sat on one.

 

Anyway, the few dates he had managed to score in the recent years -most of them thanks to his Braga teammates- had cancelled on him before he could take them out or had walked out halfway through dinner, feigning all sorts of sudden terminal illnesses. Once, one chit had shown the audacity to move a table to chat up another bloke, ignoring him for the rest of evening until the time to pay the bill had come. For his own and their romantic dinner.

 

“What am I doing wrong?” he mused as he surveyed his reflection in the full-length mirror in his old bedroom. Despite his best efforts to repair the old thing, his father hadn’t managed to get rid of the distorting cracks.

 

Marcus licked his fingers and ran them over his bushy brows and mussed his hair to resemble that of Pucey’s (he had a subscription to Witch Weekly, so he knew that stuff). He couldn't see anything wrong with his looks, to be honest. So, it had to be something he was or wasn’t doing. Perhaps, he ought to ask his mother and sisters about that, them being girls and all they were bound to have some ideas about it.

 

But only if he lucked out with girl Bell.

 

“You can do it,” he encouraged his reflection and squared his shoulders. “Go in there, chat her up, and ask her to go for drinks. Easy. Works for everyone and it will for you. You’re a great wizard, a Quidditch star; she won’t be able to resist you.”

 

After a final look and a deep calming breath later (and passing of wind because of nerves, you understand), he slammed the door open and stepped out, ready to take his chance with girl Bell. It was going to work; he was sure of it. He was the man, king of the word, the dream-

 

“For fuck’s sake, take it easy on the door, you sodding arse,” Will grumbled as he stepped out his bedroom at the same time. “Break down your own flat.”

 

“Telling Mum you’re calling me names again,” Marcus replied smoothly.

 

Leave it to his father to ruin his moment. But he wouldn’t let it get him down. So, squaring his shoulders again and mentally pumping himself up to unleash his inner love god, he stepped into the narrow corridor and let his foot ‘slip’ up to tackle his father for calling him names. Without skipping a beat, he asked,

 

“Are they here yet?”

 

Will, who barely managed stay upright thanks to his son, lunged at him in retaliation. However, being much younger, Marcus’ reflexes were better than his were.

 

“One of these days, I’m going to wring that skinny neck of yours.” Will shook his fist at him, knowing very well that it didn’t impress his thick-headed son at all.

 

“Yeah, yeah, you always say that.” Marcus dismissed him with a faint hand wave, something between ‘shut up’ and fuck off’, and fully intending on telling his mum about the threat as well. Someone had to keep his father in line, after all.

 

“Dad, come on, tell me,” he whined.

 

“Tell you what?” Will barked as he continued his way. Not that he cared to know what his son was raving about. But knowing Marcus and the uncut cord with his mother, he’d probably send her after him for hurting his feelings by ignoring him. One of these days, he'd need to have a serious chat with Sally about that. 

 

“Are they here yet?” Marcus made sure he articulated each word as slow and clear as possible. With his father being an ancient fossil, it wouldn’t surprise him if the old codger had some hearing problems.

 

“Who is where yet?”

 

See, he had memory problems as well.

 

Not a patient man, Marcus let out a world-weary sigh when his father kept staring at him like a Stupefied Hufflepuff. “The Bells, old man, who else? Are they here yet?”

 

“Keep calling me names and you’ll never reach my age.” When a sudden thought hit him, Will narrowed his eyes in suspicion and crossed his arms.

 

“What’s it to you? Aren’t you supposed to go back to London? Living the high life and all that other shite you keep bleating about.”

 

“Nope, Mum wants me to stay for supper; she says I’m too skinny. So, are they?” Marcus clapped his hands in impatience when his father didn’t answer fast enough. “Come on, old fart. Yes or no?”

 

Will employed the breathing techniques his Healer had taught him ages ago when the girls had first entered puberty and counted to ten before answering. It would be a shame to spend his final days in Azkaban for making his son disappear into thin air. Then again, maybe if he played his cards right…

 

He eventually decided against it; Sally would skin him alive when she found out.

 

“You aren’t going to ogle Grace again, are you? It was funny when you were twelve, but I don’t think John will take it lightly when you do that now.”

 

For a minute, Marcus looked like a vampire caught in bright sunlight before he cleared his throat and pulled his trousers up by the belt buckles, scoffing as if his father had told an offending joke.

 

“No,” he said slowly. “Why would I want to ogle her when there’s a younger and prettier Bell for grabs?”

 

“Younger… For grabs… Oh, you mean Katie. Yeah, that’s a lot better, very reassuring too. You might want to tell John that. The grabbing part, I mean. He’d like to hear all about it.” Will cursed under his breath, swallowing down the scolding he wanted to dole out.

 

Eventually, he settled on shaking his head, wondering which one of his girls had dropped Marcus on his head when he was a baby as continued his way downstairs without another word. When Marcus made a whining sound, he flipped him the bird over his shoulder. “Your fly is open and you smell like a clogged loo, by the way,” he called up.

 

“Bastard,” Marcus murmured. Still, he checked his fly (which wasn’t open) and sniffed his armpits (and decided that he still smelt far better than his father did). And as he rolled his shoulders, he wondered if his father had been joking about telling Uncle John about preferring his daughter to his wife. Before he could decide on an answer, John Bell’s booming voice announced the Bells’ arrival.

 

Showtime had finally arrived.

 

It was just a shame that girl Bell had decided to sit this one out.

 

* * *

 

The next night, The Viper’s Nest, a brand new wizarding club, had a magnificent opening night, and it promised to be the new favourite for the young witches and wizards in Britain. The roof came off by the time the Weird Sisters took the stage and played the opening tune to their most recent hit.

 

Girls with carefully applied face paint screamed their lungs out with excitement and tried to pierce through the protective shields that kept the band members from being summoned off stage. Then there were the boys with their slicked hair, desperately trying to keep their cool and pretend that their hips didn't sway to the music while they sipped their overpriced, lukewarm drinks.

 

Nodding in approval, Marcus stood beside the two proud owners, Adrian and Terence, on the V.I.P. balcony overseeing the crowds below. While he liked to party, Marcus’ idea of it was drinking his weight in cheap beer at the local pub around the corner and not caring if his clothes got dirty when he toppled over because he was too sloshed to walk to the loo in a straight line.

 

This, the overly primped crowd, too loud music, and the whole trying-not-to-sweat-because-the-heating-charms-cranked-up-to-scolding-hot-to-make-the-patrons-buy-the-too-expensive-drinks atmosphere was not exactly his scene. However, after yesterday’s failure in wooing the girl, he gladly underwent the torture if that meant he got another chance. Thanks to his mum's offhand comment, he was here with one thing on his mind, or rather one person. And neither of his friends was it.

 

No, that person would be one of the few on the dancefloor not caring how she looked while dancing. Perhaps, her uncaring was for the best because she did look quite silly. But he wouldn’t complain about that. With how that dress clung to her body, he couldn’t care less about how she moved, as long as she did.

 

A chuckle in his ear interrupted Marcus' unabashed staring and brought him back to reality just as he began imagining peeling the red dress off like she was a banana. He threw a side-eyed glance at Higgs, who also had his eyes fixed on the crowd below. He was licking his lips in appreciation of whatever it was he had set his eyes on.

 

“My Bell,” Marcus sulked. If Higgs decided to throw his pretty-boy charms into the game, he wouldn’t wouldn’t stand a chance. Sighing in defeat, he turned his attention back to the dancefloor; might as well enjoy the view before Higgs made his move.

 

Whilst the two friends were too busy to do something other than gawk at the girls gathered below, the third friend, Adrian, swayed on his spot, snapping his fingers and tapping his foot to the beat of the music. Finally satisfied with what he saw, he decided it was time to enjoy himself. He took a step back and clapped his hands to activate the muting spells around the balcony. Sighing in contentment, he plopped down on one of the plush sofas and poured himself an overflowing glass of champagne. The first drink he had the whole night. Expecting his friends to join him and cheer, he held out his glass. Unfortunately, Marcus and Terence just ignored him.

 

“Oi, are we drinking or what?”

 

“Shh,” Terence shushed him without looking back. He leant further over the railing as if he saw something he wanted to grab it before it got away.

 

“Flint? Do you want a glass of bubbly?” Adrian offered. This turned out to be another snubbed effort as well. Not wanting his jovial mood to sour, he tried again. “Merlin, lads, have a drink!”

 

Marcus shook his head; quenching his thirst was not his priority right now. He was too busy watching girl Bell and her dancing. At least, he reckoned the jerky movements of her hips and flailing arms were meant to be that. She was even worse at it than he was, and she seemed to embrace it.

 

From the corner of his eye, he noticed that Higgs was also still staring at the dance floor. He had the same look of concentration you’d see on a Kneazle before it pounced on its prey. Not having forgotten his friend’s words about Bell last week, Marcus nudged him in the ribs to make him stop. It was his turn to get lucky for once.

 

“Dammit, Flint, we’ve talked about this,” Terence scolded as he rubbed his side. “Stop hitting me, mate. You don’t know your strength.”

 

“Stop looking at her, then,” Marcus shot back. He craned his neck to see where Bell was heading off to when she broke away from her friends. Thank Merlin; it was just to the loo.

 

“Stop looking at who? Who are you looking at?” Terence asked in suspicion when he noticed the direction Flint was staring at. And then, “Which one?”

   

Marcus jutted his nose in the air, attempting to stare him down, which used to have some sort effect in the past. These days, not so much. “Bell.”

 

“I wasn’t,” Terence answered and crossed his arms as cocked his chin in the direction of the dancefloor. “Spinnet.”

 

Marcus pulled a face. The Spinnet he remembered had been something from a nightmare, but then again, the same could be said about girl Bell. Not being one in a position to judge, unfortunately, he mumbled something in the lines of ‘you're mental’ and turned to continue his favourite activity of the night: pretending to make a move on girl Bell. Although, he couldn’t deny that his eyes wandered as he tried to figure who of the witches was Spinnet.

 

“All right, I’ll bite,” said Adrian as he came to join his friends, fed up with drinking alone and staring at their bums because they blocked his view. “Is there a Veela in the house? Is that why you two sods can’t be arsed to have a drink with me?”

 

“Not a Veela, she’s a siren,” Terence answered in a dreamy voice. “She’s my wettest wet dream come true.”

 

"Right." At a loss for words for proper words, Adrian turned to Marcus. “Did you spike his drink again, Flint? What’s he on about?”

 

“Spinnet, apparently,” Marcus answered absentmindedly. Girl Bell made her way back to her friends with a blond idiot attached to her side. Even from where he stood, he could see the boy chatting her up. By the looks of it, she was eating it all up and it required his immediate attention.

 

“Gah.” Adrian’s face twisted as if he had bitten into a lemon and he, too, leant over to see what was so special about Horse Face Spinnet these days. And like Marcus, he couldn’t find her. “Which one is she, then?”

 

“I dunno. Ask him.” Marcus shrugged in annoyance at the interruption.

 

The bloke chatting up Bell hadn’t taken off his eyes off her tits for a while now, and Bell sure wasn’t minding it. That wouldn’t do. If anything, he ought to be the one staring at them while talking to her, not some pretty boy. Veering upright, he squared his shoulders and turned on heels without another word. He had things to do. What exactly, he wasn't sure yet.

 

Staring in confusion at the spot Marcus had been standing just now, Adrian turned to Terence. “Who put sand in his knickers?” 

 

“Bell.” Terence wanted to say more, but like with Marcus, his interest for tonight had an admirer latching on. Unlike Marcus, though, he knew to whom that red hair belonged. His lips curled up in derision for a minute before he decided that it was up to him to save Ms Spinnet from a lifetime of mediocrity.

 

“Need to go. See you later, yeah?”

 

* * *

 

In a half-arsed attempt to get away from a too frisky Cormac McLaggen, Katie fought the crowd by the bar to order herself a beer. As it befitted a hip club, the barmaids skilfully ignored her, seemingly preferring to help anyone but her.

 

“Come on, just a pint,” she called out she held up her empty glass in hopes that someone would get the hint. A shrieking guitar riff on stage drowned out her voice just as she gathered enough courage to demand a sodding beer.

 

“I’m thirsty,” she moaned when the barmaids found time to do shots off each other. “Come on, just one beer. I’ll even take just foam.”

 

Again, none of her efforts to attract attention worked, and sighing in resignation, she sulked away and plopped down at an empty table near the toilets. Feeling tired and sore, she slipped out her new shoes and rubbed the soles of her feet. The buzz of the copious amounts of beer she had before was waning off, leaving behind a pounding headache and more thirst.

 

The Weird Sisters had just begun playing one of their older songs. On the dance floor, sweaty bodies rubbed against each other under the guise of dancing. She scrunched her nose in jealousy at seeing some of the other girls’ moves. No matter how hard she tried, she couldn’t make her hips sway as smoothly as those girls did or keep control over her arms. And she certainly had no boys, save from a too hands-on Cormac McLaggen, hanging off her as they had.

 

Angie and the twins were wreaking havoc in the midst of it all with their exuberant dancing, trying to trump the other with the weirdest moves. Knowing them and judging by the annoyed looks from the revellers around, they were one small step removed from getting tossed out. It was hilarious to watch them for as long as it lasted.

 

Someone was missing, though.

 

Craning her neck, Katie looked around to locate Alicia and soon found her. It looked like that George’s plan to ask her to be his girlfriend just fell through.

 

“Oh, my,” she mumbled in disbelief.

 

Pressed up against the wall not far from her, Alicia was engaged in a face-eating contest with a blond bloke. Her already short skirt was hiked up to her middle and she had wrapped her legs around the man’s hips, allowing anyone who wanted to see a full view of her Babbity Rabbit knickers.

 

“Not fair,” Katie muttered as she crossed her arms and pursed her lips. Great, now she was the only one left in their little group who hadn’t kissed, let alone got fondled in public. McLaggen and his eager hands did not count.

 

Accepting her impending spinsterhood, or most likely settling for Cormac in case she got too desperate, she tore her eyes off her friend and dropped them to her sore feet. She wanted her face to be eaten in public, have big hands on her thighs and breasts while they rubbed their hips against her. Gods, was that too much to ask?

 

“I’m going to end up like Great Aunt Betty,” she moped as she rubbed her foot. “Twenty stone, a hundred Kneazles pissing in every room, and a moustache thicker than Dad’s. Bloody hell, just kill me now.”

 

Her not so silent lamenting was disturbed when someone tapped her shoulder. Groaning inwardly, she stiffened as she eyed her surroundings for an easy escape. Desperation was one thing, but she was in no way or shape ready to give into Cormac just yet. Other than ducking under the table and pretending she wasn’t there, she couldn’t think of another quick getaway.

 

The tapping on her shoulder grew more urgent, painful even.

 

“Merlin’s bloodied knickers, man, now what?” she snapped as she turned around, ready to bite Cormac’s head off for not leaving her alone for a minute.

 

To her surprise, it wasn’t Cormac. Instead, a toothily grinning Marcus Flint holding two overflowing pints in one hand stood before her.

 

“Where did you come from?” she asked in surprise, her voice drowned out by another shrill guitar riff.

 

Marcus’ grin grew wider as he pointed at the free chair next to her. For a minute, Katie pondered her options, but when she saw Cormac closing in, she hastily nodded and pulled out the chair for him. At this point, she’d do anything to rid herself of that diseased ridden rag. And in all honesty, with Flint being the new Captain for the Tornadoes, she’d loathe ruining her chances of making the team by telling him to sod off.

 

Because she was in her right mind to do so after him not showing up to the party in his honour and making her wait for hours for a measly autograph and insider tips to make the team. No, sir, she hadn’t forgotten about that. Still, as Flint plopped down next to her, she grabbed her tiny purse to check if she still had the spare piece of parchment and pencil in there. Just in case, you’d never know.

 

But she wasn’t going to talk to him. Nope, not in a million-

 

Flint managed to break her musing when he tapped her shoulder again. When she threw him an icy glare (yes, icy. She’d perfected that look years ago, thank you very much) he pointed at the pints on the table.

 

The condensed glass holding the golden coloured liquid looked mighty appealing, and Katie remembered why she had broken away from her friends in the first place: her thirst for more beer.

 

'Thank you, cheers' she mouthed and brought the glass to her lips, downing most of it in one go. As she slammed her half empty glass back down on the table and let out a lady-like belch (yes, those do exist), she caught his eye. “What are you looking at?”

 

Flint shrugged and pointed at his ears.

 

“Loud, yeah,” Katie agreed and turned away from him, silently letting him know that she was angry. Unfortunately, a still heavily snogging Alicia, now with two hands up her shirt, was the other option to look at. A crestfallen George stood not too far from her, and that pathetic sight was too much for her to witness. So, she turned to Flint again, who was still staring at her with that face-splitting grin.

 

“I didn’t expect you to see you here,” she said for the sake of making conversation. Frankly, his silent staring was starting to get on her nerves.

 

Again, he shrugged and pointed at his ears. Then, as if a lightbulb went off in his head, his face lit up and he held up a finger. He pulled out his wand from his waistband -of course, the likes of him wouldn’t have needed to surrender it at the entrance, of course- and swished it in a circle. And just like that, the ear-piercing music muted to a dull thumping in the background.

 

“Impressive,” Katie said, nodding in appreciation.

 

“Thank you. It was one of the first spells my dad had taught me before I went off to Hogwarts.” Marcus tugged her wand back into his waistband and grabbed his beer, clanging it with her glass. “Cheers.”

 

“Why would he teach you a muting spell?”

 

He looked at her wide-eyed over the brim of the glass. And unless her eye-sight was failing her, Katie was sure he was blushing. Well, that was a sight she’d never expected to see. Other than Alicia dry humping a stranger in a crowded club, that is.

 

“Uh, yes,” Marcus began when he lowered his glass and scratched behind his ear. “Dad said it would come in, uh, handy one day. You know, with four other boys in a dorm.”

 

“Very smart, I should have learnt that spell as well,” Katie agreed.

 

They fell silent after that, Marcus staring at his glass and Katie’s attention drawn by Alicia again. Or rather, the empty spot where her friend was supposed to be. A drunkenly weeping George still stood there, Fred and Angie by his side trying to console him.

 

“So, uh, that was Spinnet, eh?”

 

“What?”

 

Marcus cocked his chin in the direction of her three friends. “The chit Higgs just took home, was it Spinnet?”

 

“He took her home?” Katie shrieked as she jumped up. “Dammit, she was supposed to fly home with me!”

 

“That’s a yes, then?” Marcus took another sip of his beer, silently congratulating Higgs on his newest conquest; he had a knack for picking them out. And he had to admit; Spinnet had dried up quite well.

 

Too absorbed with figuring out how his friend had managed to bag the bird record time, he noticed too late that Katie had walked away. A half empty glass and her shoes the only signs she had been there in the first place. “Oi, Bell, where are you going? Your shoes!”

 

She didn’t hear him, though, and by the time his brain caught up with him, she was already outside.

 

“Sodding… Fucking Higgs, ruining my plans,” he grumbled as he hurried after her. How was he supposed to woo her now?

 

Lucky for him, a missing broom and an unpredicted summer storm took care of that problem.

 

* * *

 

“Ahhh,” Katie screamed in panic and pulled Marcus’ billowing robes over her head with one hand while her other arm tightened around his waist when he swerved sharply to the left to avoid another lightning bolt. The static energy and sweeping wind had her hair stand upright.

 

“Hold on, the storm should pass us any second now,” Marcus called over his shoulder as he made another sharp swerve. Strictly speaking, that one had not been necessary. But what could he say; he liked the way she clung on to him.

 

For a change, luck had been on his side when he caught up with her outside the club. She had been arguing with the bouncer about her missing broom. And while she had been raving and jumping about in anger, the half-giant had surveyed her with crossed arms, unmoved by her near hysterics.

 

So, being the gentleman he was (see, told you so), Marcus had offered her to stay at his flat until they sorted out how to retrieve her missing broom (a bloke’s got to try). She told him to get bent, which, he had to admit, had been quit arousing to hear her talk like that. Being a Flint and taught well by his father (not that he’d ever admit it to the old man), he had offered the next best thing: flying her to Tinworth himself.

 

And here they were now; still another half an hour away from the village flying in a storm and soaked to the bone. The only upside to it was girl Bell pressed against him, soft curves and all.

 

“It’s stopped raining,” he said as he pushed his goggles up. The dark clouds had made room for the brightly twinkling stars.

 

Still hidden inside his robe, Katie leered into the night from behind his back. When she was sure that the storm had indeed passed, she detangled herself from the safety of his body.

 

“I hate flying in bad weather,” she muttered as she combed her fingers through her damp hair.

 

Marcus snorted at that. “Get used to it, Princess.”

 

“What’s that supposed to mean?” When he didn’t answer right away, she pinched his side. “Tell me.”

 

“You’ll have to try harder than that if you want to hurt me, Princess,” he said with a laugh. “That just tickled.”

 

“Pff, that was the point.” Katie grimaced at hearing how silly that sounded. Still, her mortification was short-lived when she realisation that he had called her princess, twice.

 

“Sure, whatever you say.” Marcus wished for another unexpected storm so she'd crawl against him again. His back was getting cold without her keeping it warm.

 

“Why did you say that I’d get used to flying in storms?” Just to ensure that she wouldn’t fall off, she leant against him again. You’d never know what could happen this time of night. Oh, and to hear what he had to say. Yes, definitely that.

 

Was she mind reader? Marcus willed her to pick up on certain thoughts. When nothing happened, his shoulders slumped. So far for flying naked.

 

“Flint?”

 

“Wot? Oh, yeah. You want to play for the Tornadoes, right? The chances are that you’ll need to fly in bad weather for a large part of the season. What did you do at Hogwarts, sit out the winter matches?”

 

“Meh, that’s different.” Katie shrugged, and as she did so, a sudden thought popped up. “Did you see me play? The try-out, I mean.”

 

“Oh, yes.” A lazy grin played on his lips as he recalled how she looked on her broom, the wind making her clothes cling to her body. Tits and arse-

 

“So, what did you think? Uhm, would you pick me?” Katie screwed her eyes shut and crossed her fingers in hopes of good news. Reserve, star Chaser, it was all fine by her. Hell, she’d even settle for lavatory witch as long as she could say that the Tutshill Tornadoes had signed her on.

 

“Definitely, set in stone already, you’re mine.”

 

“Really? I made the team?” She wrapped her arms tightly around his waist and reached up to kiss his stubbly chin. “Thank you, I knew you’d help me.”

 

Although he didn’t mind the peck at all, he only wished that she had aimed a bit higher, he was a bit confused what she was thanking him for. And more importantly…

 

“What team?” he asked as he glanced over his shoulder.

 

The smile ran away from her face at his question. “The Tornadoes? The try-out for your team?”

 

“Oh, that…” Well, this was awkward. “Uh, the higher-ups haven’t decided yet. Too many talents they've said this morning. I don’t get a say in it with me being new myself and all.”

 

_'And too hung over to have seen anyone else fly but you.'_

 

Katie fell silent, and when she scooted away from him, Marcus tried to come up with a plan to salvage his chances with her. Perhaps, he ought to make a stop and console her. Hold her while she sobbed into his chest.

 

Just as he steered his broom to clearing in the woods beneath them, she spoke up again. To his disappointment, she didn’t sound as if she were about to cry.

 

“I was kind of mad at you that day, you know. It made me want to do my best, and I thought I had,” she murmured.

 

“Anger can do that. Hey, wait a minute, what did I do?” Marcus went over all the times he had come back home the last three years, but couldn’t recall a single time he had seen her during those short visits. He couldn’t have mucked up too much, could he?

 

“You didn’t show up to your party. I waited hours to have a chat with you.” Katie chuckled and scooted closer again. “I wanted to pick your brain on how to get on the team.”

 

“You were there?” Sodding Higgs and Pucey and their grand ideas, costing him a chance with girl Bell. “I would have been there if I’d known. You could have picked all that you wanted. My brain, my trous-” He stopped himself just in time because that didn’t sound desperate all.

 

Still, he had her laughing. That had to count for something, right?

 

“Hey, Flint?”

 

“Yeah?” To stop or not to stop and unleash his greatness on her? Tinworth’s skyline was already in sight; he had to act fast.

 

“You said you’ve picked me already.” Katie felt a blush creep up. Maybe, she had misheard. What if she made a fool of herself? Oh, Merlin, the embarrassment.

 

Unlike her, though, Marcus didn’t feel any shame. Having been on one too many failed dates, being brushed off for too many times to count, he had surpassed that point a long time ago. And in case tonight turned out to be another bust, there was an unopened Ogden’s Finest waiting for him at home. He just hoped he’d get a chance to take her out on a real date before he got to that point.

 

“Yeah, I did say that.” He braced himself for the usual turn down. The ‘it’s you, not me’ speech that was sure to come and the belly shaking laughter that always followed after that.

 

Well, that didn’t happen.

 

“Really?”

 

“Yeah, really.” And again, he braced himself for the cackles. And again, nothing happened. He pinched his hand to make sure he wasn’t dreaming. Wincing as he did so -that was going to leave a mark- he concluded that he wasn’t.

 

“Why? You hardly know me.” Unless he had stalked her as she had done with him (the subscription to the Portuguese newspaper had cost her an arm and a leg, and nicking the Prophet whenever they had featured him had often ended is squabbles with her schoolmates), she couldn’t explain why he’d like her, let alone want.

 

“Your tits, Princess, your tits.” It was out before he knew it and by the time he clasped his hand over his mouth, it was too late.

 

Perhaps, something was wrong with girl Bell, because instead of the smack upside his head he had expected, she giggled and scooted even closer. She giggled. Giggled. He glanced over his shoulder to make sure it wasn’t some trap. What he saw made him nearly topple off his broom.

 

She had pushed her arms together, which in turn pushed up her breasts as she looked down at them, and then… and then she jiggled them.

 

Jiggled.

 

“Really? These old girls? You like them?” she asked and then giggled and jiggled again.

 

Giggled and jiggled.

 

Marcus gulped hard and quickly averted his eyes, shifting uncomfortably on his broom as he wracked his brain on what to say now. Dare he say that he liked her arse too? Somehow, he must have waited too long, because the next words out her mouth were not what he had hoped on.

 

“Slow down, you’re going to fly past my house.”

 

Only by the time they made it safely into the Bell’s back gardens and he helped girl Bell mount off, he found his voice again.

 

“Ah, Pri- uh, Bell-” he stammered as they walked up to the cottage. He was at a complete loss on what was appropriate to call her now that he had said rather inappropriate things to her.

 

“Katie,” she helped him along. “I like princess, too. I don’t mind.”

 

“So, Katie.” He tucked his hand deep into his trousers and kept his gaze on his shoes. She was probably waiting for him to muck it up a final time before she read him the riot act. That had happened once. “A-about what I said-”

 

Katie ducked her head, afraid that he’d see the blush on her face. The last time she had admitted to liking someone -Oliver, duh- that stupid Hufflepuff boy had threatened to toss her off the Astronomy Tower. “You meant it, didn’t you?”

 

Marcus nodded, glancing sideways in hopes to see her jiggle once more before he went home, which would be sneaking up to his old room. His room across from hers. His room with his old omnioculars on his rackety old desk. Did she sleep with her curtains closed or open?

 

“So…”

 

“So…”

 

In the meanwhile, they had reached the door to dark Bell Cottage. A faint light shone through the curtains, a shadow moving behind them.

 

“I think Mum’s waiting up for me. I’m sure she won’t mind making a cuppa before you head home,” Katie offered.

 

What she really wanted was for him to do what all boys were supposed to do whenever they brought a girl home: push her up against the door and snog her silly. Why in Merlin’s name did she have to bring her mother into this?

 

“No, thanks. Besides, I think I’ll stay with Mum and Dad tonight. Being late and all…” he trailed off and finally tore his eyes off his shoes. She was watching him from underneath her lashes and licking her lips. If she was anything like him, she didn’t lick them because they were chapped.

 

Feeling bold because she hadn't cussed him out yet and her not being in a particular hurry to get away from him, he took a step closer in case they’d need to shake hands in goodbye. To his surprise, so did she, and then another, and another, until they stood nose to nose. So, no hand shaking then.

 

As she looked up at him, her lips glistening from the excessive licking and batting her lashes in expectance, he wondered if this would be the moment he’d get to chance to kiss a girl goodnight. Not just any girl, but girl Bell, who had somehow puckered her lips in the millisecond it had taken him to blink. He found himself leaning in closer as she reached up. Where were his hands supposed to go when their lips made contact? Why was he thinking about that now?

 

You know those romantic scenes in films wherein the two leads lock eyes, everything slows down and eventually phases out until there is no one else but them and cheesy music plays in the background, rose petals rain down, and so on and so forth? Yes?

 

Well, John and Michael Bell effectively ruined that moment.

 

The Stupefy came from two different directions and as Marcus stiffened up and fell backwards with a dull thud, Katie threw her hands up in the air as she fell to her knees beside him, crying in despair.

 

“No!”

 

From the darkened cottage on the other side of the hedge, a chronic sleep deprived Will cackled as he peered through a crack between the curtains.

 

Tonight was one of those rare nights he didn’t mind not falling asleep.


	9. The first time Marcus put some effort into getting to know her. In a sort of sneaky, but well-meant fashion. A boy’s gotta do what a boy’s gotta do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Moving forward. Rating bumped up.

“Blimey, gerrofme,” Adrian shrieked as he swatted at the gnat on his nose. He hoped it was a gnat, but you’d never know what flesh-eating monsters roamed the thick bushes he currently stood in. 

While he fought for his life, something in the corner of his eye made him lose his equilibrium for a minute, and left him with flailing arms to keep himself from toppling over. Which, in the end, led to stepping into something. Something soft and squishy and very, very foul smelling. 

“Oh, shit.”

“Can you keep gob shut for just a minute?” Terence hissed down from the branch he sat on. Without waiting for an answer, he swung one of the Extendable Ears he had bought in bulk earlier that day and missed. Sitting on a branch above him, Marcus was still fumbling with the wrapper around his.

“These are Opaleye hide boots,” Adrian snapped back. His face twisted in disgust as he lifted his foot to examine the damage from close. “And now they're ruined for good. Why am I- No, why are we here again? In case you’ve forgotten, we have a business to run.”

“You’re the lookout.” Terence swung his Extendable Ear again and this time, missed by a mere inch. 

“You’re the hero that’s gonna keep us from getting caught or killed. An essential pawn in our plan. You ought to take pride in that.” Marcus fist-pumped the air when the wrapper finally came undone. “I’ll name my firstborn after you if the plan works out.”

“Yeah, what he said,” Terence agreed. “Now, be a good boy and keep your eyes and ears open, yeah?”

Adrian opened his mouth, wanting to scold them for making him do this. But, as it was, he had agreed -before he learnt they’d be spying on girls, mind you- and given his word that he’d have their backs. So, before he’d catch more gnats with his mouth, he snapped it shut and huffed as he crossed his arms. “You two owe me new boots.”

“I’ve already promised you my firstborn. Higgs?” Marcus swung his eavesdropping device and unlike his friend’s, his latched on immediately. All he had left to do was to fine-tune his omnioculars. 

“Miser,” Terence grumbled under his breath. At Adrian’s continuous moans and huffs, he finally looked down and gave him a quick nod to placate him. Cheap knock-offs from Knockturn Alley it was, then.

When Marcus was sure that Adrian had walked away to a more strategically advantageous position, he kicked Terence’s shoulder below him. “Disillusionment Charm ready?”

Terence took a deep breath, his ribs still a bit tender from the hexing and subsequent beating he had been on the receiving end of a few days earlier. However, instead of giving up, he had become more tenacious in seeing this through. “I’m ready to go.”

“Good, on three, then. One…” Marcus stopped mid-count when a sudden thought popped up. “Her father won’t go easy on you this time if he finds you here.”

Terence looked up, scowling. “Two!”

“Just looking out for you, no harm done.” 

The faithful night wherein Marcus had been lucky enough to fly Katie home like the gentleman he was and Terence had practically dragged Alicia back to his cave by her hair, hadn’t ended on a too well note for either. Whereas John and Michael Bell had Stupefied Marcus for trespassing -John being misinformed by Michael, of course- Terence had been even unluckier than that. 

Aloysius Spinnet, a retired Hit Wizard who ruled his family like a general ruling his troops, wasn't considered a warm and understanding man on the best of days. However, that Sunday morning that he had banged on the Bells’ door demanding to know why his nineteen-year-old little girl wasn’t in her bed, he had been downright frightening. After drilling Katie for a few short minutes -as Sally, who had heard it from Grace Bell, had told Marcus- she had admitted that Alicia had left with Terence Higgs. That had led to Mr Spinnet tearing down the Higgs’ front door and dragging his daughter from Terence's bed. But not before he kicked his arse a few times over. 

Which led the two young men sitting in a tree today. 

Despite Marcus’ best efforts -which included temporarily moving back in with his parents, invest in high-end omnioculars to watch the Bell house every chance he got, and nagging Ruckus to accept her to the team- he hadn’t been able to see girl Bell for more than a few minutes a day from afar. So, when his mother mentioned -how she got her information was a mystery to him- that she’d be visiting her friend, a plan had formed. In his eagerness to see Spinnet again, Higgs had outlined it further with his somewhat slightly better planning skills. 

“Okay, here goes. Assume position,” Marcus ordered sternly.

Both men plugged the ends of their Extendable Ears in their ears, grabbed hold of their omnioculars in one hand, and pointed their wands at their temples. Looking at each other, both nodded at the same time.

“…three.”

With their lenses focussed on the small window in the near distance, the two men disappeared and the eavesdropping began.

“…know everything. Start from the beginning, you great tart,” Katie exclaimed as soon as she shut the door behind her. 

“Shhh.” Alicia, who had been flipping through a magazine on her bed, put her finger to her lips as she pointed towards the door. Then, she held up her hand, counting down the seconds with her fingers.

At five, Mrs Spinnet shrill voice resonated through the house. “Aloysius, get your flat arse down here this instant! Give the girls some privacy.”

On cue, a deep voice grumbled on the other side of the door, growing weaker as he stomped away and down the stairs. 

Katie plopped down on the bed next to her friend. “Your dad is mental. More so than Micky and my dad combined.”

“Yeah, he is,” Alicia agreed with a sigh as she scooted over and tossed her Witch Weekly on the floor. “Mum’s says that he got hit one too many times in the head and that’s why he had to retire. She's working on getting him to agree to let me out the house again.”

“Grounded till thirty.” Katie shook her head in disbelief. “What about your work?”

Alicia yawned and stretched out lazily. “From home to work and back again. Wouldn’t want to ruin my career now, would we? Merlin forbid the apothecary would find someone else to chop potions ingredients."

Giggling, Katie snuggled closer to Alicia, unaware of the dry mouths the innocent action caused the two men spying on them. As they lay face to face and her laughter died down, she suddenly flicked Alicia’s nose.

“Oi, what’s that for?” 

“You left me stranded, you daft bint. With McLaggen of all people. You were supposed to keep him and his hands away from me.”

Alicia yawned again, waving her hand in dismissal. “What can I say. I got distracted.”

“Yeah, with hands and tongue. Everyone saw you and your knickers. Nice choice, by the way.” For good measure, she added in complete deadpan, “Slag.”

“Jealous?” Alicia waggled her brows, grinning like mad.

Katie let out a deep breath and nodded, thinking about her failed attempt at a night club romance. Merlin, had it been too much to ask to have Flint grope her before her father and brother got to him. Why couldn’t he have flown her to a remote place like a proper bloke his age would have done? 

“Very much. You can make me feel better and tell me everything I want to know. Don’t you dare leave anything out, even the things I don’t want to know.”

Outside, Terence patted around him until he found Marcus’ leg and yanked at it.

Pissed about being disturbed just as the juiciest part was about to begin, Marcus flung his leg back and forth until he hit something. To hear Terence yelp was mildly satisfying. “What d’you want?”

“Take your Ear out.”

“Naha, I want to hear this.” Higgs didn’t need to know that he would be taking mental notes for when he ever got the chance to do, uh, things.

“Privacy, mate. Take it out.” 

Marcus put his best intimidating face on and puffed his chest until he realised no one couldn’t see him. “No!” 

“Bloody hell, Flint, just put them out for a few minutes. I’ll tell you when you can listen again.” Terence groped around until he found Marcus’ leg and yanked as hard as he could. The high-pitched shriek coming from the giant of a man as he crashed to the ground would have been hilarious were it not that said giant of a man latched on to him on his way down.

They hit the ground only a half inch removed from the dung Adrian had stepped in earlier. Their omnioculars followed a second later, bouncing off their heads and cancelling the Disillusionment Charms. 

“Ow,” Marcus groaned as he rubbed the sore spot on his forehead where the copper viewers had left an indentation. With the second breath he took, he punched Terence’s thigh as hard as he could. “Sodding idiot, why did you have to do that for.”

“You’re the idiot here.” Terence kicked his leg in the air and to the side until he found the perfect position to dig his heel into Marcus’ shin. “Listen for a change when I tell you to do something.”

“Why? The best part was about to begin,” Marcus said with a groan as he pulled his leg up to his chest. Ruckus would probably bite his head off if he got injured before playing his first match.

Terence pinched his side to ease the stinging pain. “Would you like me to hear the things you’ll get to do with Bell?” he said between harsh pants.

“Oh, Gods, no! Why would I want that?” 

Just as he wanted to say more, Pucey, who had been doing his best to keep his friends from being caught peeping, came stalking out the bushes. He had an exasperated look on his face, the muscles in his jaw clenching and unclenching as he practised his death glare on them. 

“Are you trying to get killed?” he bit out as he kicked dirt at them. “Keep it down or I'm taking you home.”

“He started it," Terence sulked as he got up and held his hand out to help Marcus up. "Trying to listen to the girls and all.”

Adrian rubbed his face in disbelief and let out a deep breath as he silently counted till ten. “That’s why you’re here,” he slowly said as if he was talking to a small child. “That’s the whole sodding idea.”

“Is what I’m trying to tell him.” Marcus stretched out, wincing when something popped in his back and neck. Yeah, Ruckus was going to skin him alive and wear him as his new robe. 

“Oh, for Salazar’s sake, Flint! You just said that-” 

Before Terence could finish his scolding, Adrian slapped him upside the head for being too loud. When Marcus had to laugh at that, he slapped him as well. 

“Gods,” he growled in frustration as his two pouting friends rubbed the backs of their heads. “You two drag me down to this hellhole-”

“Wallop,” Terence corrected him, “It’s not that far from Tinworth.”

That cheeky answer earned him a Stinging Hex. As he jumped around with his hands on his arse and whimpering in pain, Adrian turned to Marcus. He had his wand ready as he asked, “Anything you want to add to that?”

Marcus quickly shook his head, miming to indicate that his lips were locked. 

“Now, where was I?” Adrian snorted in contempt as he ran his hand through hair. "Oh, yes. You two blithering idiots drag me down to this hellhole and expect me to keep you alive while you do everything in your power to achieve the opposite. Well, I'm too young and handsome to die before my thirties. So, I’ll give you two options. One, you get your scrawny arses up that tree again, behave as agreed, and listen in on those chits to learn what you need to learn. Or, two, we leave this instance. What’s it gonna to be?”

“Up the tree,” Marcus muttered, not used to being talked to like that.

“Yeah, up.” Still rubbing his tender arse, Terence cast a sideways glance at Marcus, who saw it and nodded; Adrian would be in a world of hurt later.

“Now, get up there then so I can go home in one piece.” Adrian walked away, muttering under his breath. “Ten minutes,” he called over his shoulder before he disappeared into the thick bushes again. 

While outside the two men repeated the earlier ritual of climbing the three and readying their listening and peeping devices, inside Katie and Alicia still lay nose to nose as the latter told in great detail what had happened from the moment Higgs had spilt his drink on her top and offered to wash it off. 

“… felt sooooo good. And that’s when Dad barged in,” Alicia finished happily. 

“Oh, Merlin, that’s so romantic.” Katie clutched the front of her shirt as she swooned, imagining everything her friend told her happening to her. That reminded her, maybe it was time to take her mother up on her offer to go to Aphrodite’s Spa for when she’d get lucky like that. 

“Yeah, it was.” Alicia flopped on her back, staring glassy-eyed at the ceiling. “I wanna do it again, and again, again…”

Katie propped on her elbow, staring into the distance with envy written all over her face. It could have been her if Flint had been more forward with her. Maybe, she should take charge the next time she saw him since he was all talk and no action. But in all fairness, thinking back about the flight home and hearing him tell that he’d pick her, still made her smile. And with that mind, she softly said, 

“Yeah, me too.”

“Yeah… Wait, what? McLaggen? Did something happen you forgot to mention?”

“What? No! That’s disgusting.” Katie shuddered at the mere thought. “I was talking about Marcus. I mean Flint.” 

For the second time that day, Marcus fell out the tree. Unlike before, he was back up in record speed in fear of missing out on what girl Bell might be saying about him. The grin on his face would have been blinding if he hadn’t been Disillusioned. 

“Huh? You've shagged Flint? Your neighbour Flint?” Alicia put her hand on Katie’s forehead, afraid that she’d fallen ill. 

“No, you twat,” Katie scolded as she swatted at her hand. “He flew me home because you took my broom and was quite the gentleman about it, unfortunately. No kissing, let alone shagging for me. I'd wish, though.”

“Blimey, you could have banged but passed on it. He, he, he, duffer!” Terence sniggered as he looked down where a Flint-like shape flattened the tall grass. 

Just as Katie began retelling the how’s and what’s of Marcus flying her home, the man in question climbed the tree for a third time just in time to hear how he got Stupefied. 

“… die unkissed, it’ll be Micky’s fault,” Katie said as she threw her arm over her eyes. “I don’t know what's crawled up his crack and died, but he needs to return to Hogwarts soon before he ruins my life. At least, Daddy apologised for ruining my moment without Mum having to make him.”

“Aww, I’ll kiss you if you’re that desperate,” Alicia joked as she snuggled closer. 

“Yessss,” the two men outside encouraged.

“Don’t joke, I might have to take you up on that one of these days.” 

Again, two men hissed ‘yes’.

“Well, do you want to snog Flint?” Alicia asked. When Katie stuck out her bottom lip and nodded, she asked, “Why would you want that?”

“I don’t like her, find someone else,” Marcus ordered.

“Shhh, she isn’t done yet.” Terence blinked nervously, hoping that Spinnet wouldn’t put his friend down too much. 

“I don’t know. He makes me feel funny.” Katie shrugged, thinking back at the various newspaper clippings of him in his swimming shorts she had hidden underneath her mattress, which had been quite useful during sleepless nights. What was there to say, the man had a great body and those shorts were mighty tight. 

“Good funny or I-might-break-down-in-puss-oozing-boils-if-he-comes-near funny?”

“The good one, of course,” Katie snapped, scowling. “The other one is for McLaggen.”

“Right, sorry.” Again, Alicia placed her hand on Katie’s forehead. She was cool to touch. “When did this happen? I’ve never heard you talking about him before.”

Again, Katie shrugged. “I don’t know… Besides, you haven't talked about Higgs ever before and then out of nowhere, you snog him and let him pop your cherry a few times in one night.”

“Ha, I knew she was lying! Say no to that old man!” Terence rejoiced. He pulled out his Extendable Ear and cancelled the Disillusionment Charm. He'd learnt all he needed to know.

“What are you doing?” Marcus asked. He tried to keep his attention on the girls, but his friend’s overly cheery reaction to something or the other was rather a distraction. “Hey, where are you going?”

“Old pureblood politics mate. Who would have guessed those lessons would come in handy one day! Listen, I’ll see you later, yeah. I need to talk to Father about buying a ring.”

As he watched his friend move faster than he had ever seen before and disappeared from sight, Marcus scratched behind his ear in contemplation and mumbled, “What lessons?” 

Fortunately, Katie’s voice broke through his musing and made him concentrate on what he had come for in the first place; find a way to approach girl Bell without making a complete arse of himself.

“…can’t, I’m too embarrassed,” Katie howled, “How am I supposed to face him again after what Dad and Micky did? He probably hates all of us now!”

“There, there, I’m sure Flint hates everyone.” Alicia patted her back, biting her cheeks not to burst out in laughter. “Comes with being a troll. Everyone knows that.”

“Haha, stupid bint,” Marcus grumbled. 

“Be nice or I'll start with Higgs." Katie sniffled and wiped her nose on Alicia's shirt. “I'm sure that I can come up with a few things if that’s what you want.”

“No, I’m good.” Alicia tapped her chin, eager to find a solution to her friend’s problem and distract her from Terence. “Say, has your dad apologised to him for thinking he was a tramp attacking you?”

“I dunno, he still drinks a few beers with Uncle Will every day after work. I don't think there are any hard feelings on that end.”

“Nope.” Marcus plopped the ‘p’ as he shook his head. His dad told him that he had it coming for fondling the girl. If only he had the chance the fondle her, though.

“Hmm, maybe you can ask your mum to invite them for supper one night. They still do that, don’t they? That way, your dad can apologise, and you'll get to see-”

Marcus didn’t bother to listen to what else Spinnet had to say. Like with Terence earlier, a sound plan had popped up and it required immediate action. Hopefully, his mum wouldn’t mind cooking for a few more people tonight or tomorrow. 

While the girls debated about the feasibility of Alicia’s idea, and Terence and Marcus had flown off in a hurry to instruct their respective parents about their brilliant and fool proof plans, neither friend had stopped to think about Adrian.

“What the hell,” he murmured as he emerged from the bushes exactly ten minutes later. 

Several used and unused Extendable Ears lay on the grass, as well as the two very pricey omnioculars. He bent to pick one up when his eye fell on his broom a few trees down, which should have been accompanied by two other ones. 

They had left him without a word. 

Again. 

“Bastards.”

* * *

 

**The next evening**

“No! Not there!” Sally screeched when Katie sat down and she would have lunged forward if it hadn’t been for the tureen in her hands. 

“Yes, there,” Grace bit back and firmly held her daughter down by her shoulders when she wanted to shift seats. 

Sally narrowed her eyes and dumped the tureen on the table. Tomato soup sloshed over, staining the pristine white table cloth. Having bigger fish to fry, she didn’t care for appearances for a change. 

“Katie sits there,’ she pointed at the other side of the table and then at the small cards besides the plates, ‘just like it says.”

“No,” Grace said lowly. Her already firm hold on her daughter’s shoulder tightened. “Since when do you use seating cards, anyway?”

“Since today, and according to them, she sits there.”

“No, not tonight.”

Sally pulled out her wand from her sleeve and twirled it between her fingers while she looked Grace up and down. “Don’t force my hand, Donahue.”

“Try me, Rookwood.” Grace jutted her nose in the air in a poor attempt to exude arrogance, their silent battle a reminder of their Hogwarts years. Their fights back then had mostly gone undecided but she’d be damned if this wouldn’t be the one argument she’d win for a change.

“Mum, hurt,” Katie mumbled as she tried to loosen her mother’s death grip on her shoulders. She was already sore from helping her father at the butchery all day, and her mother trying to pulverise her shoulder made her aching body ache even more.

Of course, no one paid attention to her when it mattered most. 

“You don’t get to change your mind.” Sally pointed her wand at Grace, her eyes narrowed. “Do I need to remind you that we have an agreement?”

“Mum, it’s all right. I’ll sit-” 

“Not now, love. Let the grownups talk,” Grace interjected and in the same breath continued berating Sally, “It was supposed to be a joke, Sal. It’s not funny anymore and it needs to stop. Yours already got hurt last week.”

“He’ll survive,” answered Sally, still twirling her wand. “His skull is thick enough head to take it.”

“Daddy?” Katie called out in good hope when her father and Mr Flint walked in. 

He’d save her; he’d always saved her whenever her mother got too unhinged to handle. Unfortunately, both men walked out as fast as they had walked in when they noticed the stand-off between their wives.

“Supper in ten that is,” Mr Flint said as he led John Bell out the kitchen, who nodded in agreement and just like his neighbour avoided eye contact at any cost. 

The door shut with a loud bang, but not before she caught a glimpse of the boy (dammit, Katie, he’s a man!) she was dying to see again. Having forgotten mother’s irrationality for a moment, she squirmed in her chair in giddiness at the prospect of having dinner with Marcus. Gods, how eerie was it that Alicia had suggested such a solution just yesterday.

“For goodness’ sake, Katie, eyes on your plate,” Grace scolded. 

“But Sally says that’s my plate,” she quipped as she pointed at another plate. That earned her a light slap upside her head. “Mum, fuck, stop hurting me.” 

“Merlin’s saggy balls, Katie, mind your language. We’re not at home.” 

Judging by her sniggering, Sally appreciated her cheekiness. Not that she dared to look up to see, not now that her mother had gone as mad as a bag of ferrets. Because that was the only explanation she had for her behaviour; raving mad!

“Leave the girl alone, Grace. It’s not her fault that you’ve lost the plot.”

“I have not!” was the indignant answer. “I just don’t want to play anymore.”

“It never was a game. Besides, what’s so wrong with- that you don’t want to anymore? It was your idea to begin with; you can’t just back out now that we’re this close.”

“Close to what?” Katie asked. She had no idea what the two hags were arguing about, but if she was going to be stuck in the middle, she’d like to know which side to take and what to argue.

“Hush you,” the two ladies answered at the same time.

And just like that, she wasn’t included in the discussion anymore. The story of her life.

“What’s this all about, Grace?” Sally pressed.

Although her hold on her daughter slackened, of which Katie made proper use of by slipping from her chair and happily darting to the one Sally wanted her to sit on, Grace didn’t answer immediately. The only sound she made was a world-weary sigh when her eye fell on Katie, who was wringing her hands in nervous excitement when she read whom she would be sitting next. 

“What if it works? I’ll lose my baby,” she finally answered, holding her hands out in despair. “My baby, Sal.”

“What baby?” Katie asked shocked, and just like Sally moments ago, she narrowed her eyes in menace and waggled her finger. “You’re not doing the dirty with Daddy, are you? If I'm not doing it, you don’t get to either. That’s just too unfair.”

For a fleeting second, the older women looked at her in surprise, both at a loss for words. Of course, Katie wouldn’t be Katie if she didn’t find a way to make it worse.

“Besides, it’s just disgusting. Gah. You’re too old to bang, and so is Dad. Gods, how does it even work at your age? Wait, no, don’t tell me, you’ll ruin it for me.” 

“Filter, love. We’ve talked about this before,” Grace eventually admonished her, not sure what to address first: being told not to have sex by her daughter or the gibe that it wouldn’t be possible at her age. 

Having been a hormone-drenched teen once, who had believed that she’d burst into flames if she didn’t get any action soon, she could understand Katie’s frustration with the lack of experience. But there was a time and place for these things. Preferably nowhere and never since this was her daughter they were talking about. 

“Aww, it’s okay.” Sally wasn’t sure if she was talking to Katie or Grace, but she understood both problems. “I’ve lived through it a few times; it never gets easier. Uh, for you that is, Grace. It’ll get better for you, eventually, Katie.”

After giving her mother the evil-eye, Katie turned to Sally. At least, she understood her troubles. “Really? How much longer do you think I’ll have to wait?” 

It was at that moment the son of the house decided he couldn’t wait any longer to eat. Riled up by his father and Mr Bell to demand food by the womenfolk, and too impatient to see girl Bell, he barged in. Of course, he only heard the last bit. 

“Yeah, Mum, how much longer? I’m dying to taste …’ when his eyes fell on his neighbour girl who looked even more delicious than the day before, he breathlessly added, ‘…Katie.”

“Oh, for the love of Salazar, you twit,” Will, who had been walking right behind him, said in exasperation as bumped his shoulder against his. “Think before you speak for once.”

“Yeah, son, you should wine and dine my girl first before you think about tasting her,” John Bell agreed, being the only one in the room joking. “Now, can we eat already, I’m famished.”

* * *

 

Dinner with the Flints and Bells was a quiet affair for a change. Where usually raunchy jokes between the two older couples were slung around as if they were discussing the weather or day-to-day business, it was now nothing more than ‘pass the peas’ and ‘another wine?’. The wives were still battling in silence. William ate as fast as he could so he could escort John to his newly built cigar room and end the misery before he hexed his only son. 

And then there was John… 

Well, John watched in morbid fascination how his daughter nervously chattered non-stop about Quidditch while the boy he had taught peeing standing up tried and failed at pretending he was listening to her instead of staring at her chest. Perhaps, teaching the boy how to use his willy hadn't been one of his smartest moves.

Still, it was like a roadside accident; you just had to slow down to see what was going on. Oh, Michael was going to love this.

“Would you like more wine, Katie?” Marcus asked as smooth as he could muster when she stopped for a second to take a breath. Mr Bell had said that he had to wine and dine her before he got to the tasting, so that was exactly what he intended to do. He had the man’s blessing, after all. 

“Yes, please, it’s delicious.” She held out her goblet, purposely ignoring her mother’s coughs and mutterings. “Is it Portuguese?”

“Yeah, sure, Portuguese.” He nodded uncertain, not having an idea of where his mother had bought the wine. However, he couldn’t dwell on it for too long. Now that she had stopped chattering, he had a chance to get a word in. “So, Katie, uh, what have you been up to lately? I haven’t seen you in a few days.”

And there it was again. It was fascinating how her shirt stretched across her chest and taxed the buttons to the limit each time she took a deep breath right before she started twittering. 

“Oh, nothing much. Work, friends, waiting to hear from the Tornadoes, the usual. I have quite a boring life.” 

She grimaced when he dropped another spoonful of potatoes on top of the pile already there. Having finished two full plates already, her stomach protested at the prospect of more food to digest. 

“So, nothing else going on then? For a minute there, I thought you’d found yourself a boyfriend,” he said airily and summoned the plate with the pork cutlets from his father’s hands to serve her the last two. The old man was getting too fat as it was.

“Oh, heavens, no.” Katie giggled -biting her tongue before she’d say ‘I’d wish’- and tucked an imaginary loose lock of her behind her ear. She’d seen Angelina do it a thousand times whenever she got all flirty with boys. Seeing the number of notches on her friend’s bedpost and the lack thereof on hers, it couldn’t hurt to try. 

“Oh, that’s a pity.” As Pucey had instructed him, he waited a few seconds and then added with a wink, “For them.” 

On the other side of the table, someone started grumbling and he couldn’t make out who it could be without having to tear his eyes from the perfectly shaped tits, uh, girl Bell. Tits on girl Bell. And having his priorities straight, he kept his attention on his guest and her chest. 

“Yeah, they don’t know what they’re missing. I’d be a wonderful girlfriend,” Katie agreed, nodding vehemently. At her mother’s exaggerated sigh, she raised her brows and mouthed ‘what’. However, just as her mother wanted to retort, and she was quite sure what the mad woman was about to say, she quickly turned to Marcus again, who was busy drowning her food in brown sauce. “So, how about you?”

“Boring. I only have time for Quidditch and sleep.” _And spying on you._ “So, no one for me, either.” 

“That’s good to hear.” Katie prodded her fork into the soaked food on her plate, frowning. She was getting tired of the small talk. Since he had been staring at her chest the whole night already, they might as well go on where they had left off. A midnight broom ride sounded romantic enough. 

“Hey, uhm, about what you said the other night?”

“Hmm?” Marcus, enthralled by the flash of lace-clad skin that peeped through the buttons, nodded slowly. Somehow, seeing a scrap of lace was more exciting than the cleavage he’d been studying since before his mum had served the soup.

“When you said that you’d pick me? You haven’t changed your mind, have you? I mean, after what Dad and Micky did?”

“That’s it; we’re going home.” Grace slammed her goblet down. 

Unfortunately for her, no one else seemed to be bothered. Even worse, John, her loving husband who had vowed to take care and protect their family, leant forward to listen to Marcus’ answer, just like Sally. Will seemed to have checked out completely, opening a new bottle of wine and drinking directly from it.

Unaware of his surroundings, Marcus finally tore his eyes from her chest and looked at her wide-eyed, stunned that she’d be that forward in public. He still had a list of lines to use on her, her taking a shortcut like that foiled his plans. But then he saw her cheeks redden, all the down the deep V-neck of her shirt, and he forgot what he had wanted to say. Her big brown eyes glistened, and he couldn’t remember if her lips had always been that pink and plump. Even the spot of brown sauce on her chin seemed to belong there. 

“Flint, uh, Marcus, hullo?” Katie waved her hand in worry when he kept staring her. He had the same empty look in his eyes Ollie used to get whenever a Bludger hit his head. Merlin, it would be just her luck if Flint ended up sick without answering her first.

Marcus blinked a few times while his brain worked overtime to come up with a sensible answer. Then she had to go and stick her tongue out to lick the sauce off her chin and he couldn’t think anymore. 

Finally, John came to the rescue with a loud clearing of his throat. Now that Katie had brought up the hexing, he might as well say something as well. Besides, the way the boy licked his lips made him feel uncomfortable. 

“So, Marcus, about last week, I know I’ve apologised to Will here, but I’d like to apologise to you as well for stupefying you. Marcus? Oh, for heaven’s sake, over here, boy.”

It was stupid, it really was. When Mr Bell had begun talking, Marcus had done the polite thing and had pretended to look at the man while he yapped. Then girl Bell had to go and brush her hand against his and he was lost again. But this time, it wasn’t her too tight shirt and the treasure hidden underneath that had caused it, but her big brown eyes and soft smile. To top it off, he remembered her telling Spinnet all the things she wanted to do with and to him, and he found himself whimpering.

Like Marcus, Katie had forgone listening to anyone around her. And like him, she couldn’t take her eyes off him. She couldn’t see why others would call him names behind his back; he was perfect as he was. Perfect with his slightly crooked and off-centre nose, the few pimple scars he had, and Adam’s apple that kept bopping up and down. Even the scar she’d caused years ago seemed to belong there. She wanted to lay him down and study everything and anything, trace her finger along every ridge and indentation she came across and demand to know the story behind them. And then, when he was done talking, she’d have her way with him. 

It wasn’t too much to ask, was it?

So, fuelled by the intensifying fluttering in her belly, and the fact that he hadn’t said anything about it yet, she took charge of her life for the first time and said, “Let’s get out of here, yeah? Show me your new flat?”

Their mouths agape in astonishment, the older Bells and Flints watched how Marcus jumped up from his chair and dragged a giggling Katie to the fireplace by her arm before anyone could stop him. Later, they'd discuss and agree on the fact that Katie had pushed him to go faster. Years later, the oldsters would recall this awkward supper and roll on the floor laughing at their children’s silliness. However, neither couple could see the humour in the situation tonight.

Well, perhaps, Will could.

As green flames engulfed their children, he calmly opened another bottle of wine and shoved it into John’s waiting hands.

“I’ve been there four times, mate, you’ll get used to it… Eventually.”


	10. The first time Katie visited his flat, which didn’t go too well, courtesy to boy Bell.

Katie wasn’t sure what she’d exactly expected when she asked Marcus to go to his flat for a drink. No scratch that; she had some vague idea, actually. Having read and seen too many romantic stories, she had anticipated moonlight serenades, falling into each other’s arms as soon as they were alone, and snogging each other silly in hopes of resolving some of the tension between them. And if she got lucky, he’d pick her up bridal style and take her to his bedroom, and she’d finally experience all the things that happened after a scene fade-out.

However, reality turned out a bit different. No, wait, that was another lie; reality turned out to be utterly disappointing. None of Katie's hopes and dreams had come true, yet, and they had arrived at his flat over twenty minutes ago already. In those twenty minutes, they hadn’t got further than the chilly hallway and a very repetitive…

“So…” Katie said and pushed her hands deeper into her pockets. She reckoned that if she applied just enough pressure, she’d push her trousers right off her arse. Maybe that would help ease the cumbersome stiffness that hung between them. 

Back at the Flints’, it had seemed such a good idea to take control, but now that she had, she had no clue how to go about it. It would be nice if Marcus took the lead from here on out. It was only fair after the trouble she had gone through of suggesting them to leave dinner. Taking the first step was one thing; she had no intentions on mapping out the whole sodding journey on her own.

“So…”

“Yeah, uh, so…” Marcus agreed, feeling every bit as awkward as she did. 

Like her, he didn’t have a clue what he was doing. Was he supposed to drag her to his bedroom as Higgs had done with Former-Horse-Face Spinnet or wine her some more per Mr Bell’s recommendation? Seeing that going go to his flat had been her brilliant suggestion, he had hoped that she’d have had a better idea of what to do next. Or, at least, guide him through the intricacies of having a girl guest over. They were bound to be a different from having his mates visit, or his sisters and their brood. The former just acted as if they were at home with family, and the latter was actual family and didn’t count. 

“Yeah, so.”

Still covered in soot from head to toe, they stood by the hearth they had tumbled out of earlier, smiling and nodding politely, and both were dying to do something else than staring at each other in hopes the other would read their mind. It couldn’t be that difficult, could it? 

“So,” Katie began again and immediately cringed at saying the same thing for the zillionth time. It was time for something else, but what. Desperate to find a subject to talk about, she looked around the bare hallway. Other than many boxes stacked up against the farthest wall, there was nothing worthwhile to see or mention. To break the seemingly everlasting silence, she blurted out the first thing that came to mind, 

“Uhm, you have a lovely flat. Looks, uh, big.”

“Yeah, it’s colossal,” agreed Marcus, nodding. “Mum picked it out for me.”

It took a few seconds for the Knut to fall, but when it did, his head shot up and eyes grew large with excitement; she had given him the opening he had been hoping for. 

“Yes, it’s a nice big flat with lots and lots of space to explore. Would you like a tour? I can give you a tour, no problem. I’m good at giving tours, have done it loads of times before.”

“I want that!” Equally excited and proud that she had come up with another brilliant idea, Katie took him by the hand and forcefully pulled him along as she pointed at the first door her eyes fell on. They had no time to waste. “Show me everything. Start here.”

‘Here’ turned out to be the loo, which was nice to know where to find it in the case of emergencies, but not all suitable for what she truly wanted. So, they quickly moved one door down that led into the living room. The lights were off, but the lights of Muggle London that shone through the two large bay windows on the opposite wall illuminated the room more than enough. 

An oversized saggy sofa with hideous floral print (Katie remembered it cluttering the Flints’ lounge in the past) stood in the middle. A wooden old buck’s fizz crate functioned as a coffee table, and another pile of boxes were stacked against the right wall. Other than that, the room was empty. 

“You haven’t unpacked much, have you?” Katie asked, amazed by the sheer size of the room and the number of boxes. It all seemed a bit too much for one person.

“Just my clothes. Mum and Dad have been too busy to work out my ideas and unpack my other stuff,” Marcus said with a shrug, hoping that she wouldn’t question him on the why they’d been ‘too busy’ for him. She didn’t need to know that he’d practically started living with his parents again so he could spy on her. 

When he noticed her Katie nearly overstretch her neck to peer inside, he gave her a slight nudge. “You can go in, and I’ll tell you about my plans if you like.”

She scrunched her nose and looked left and right. An empty room with too white walls and dark wooden floorboards; yeah, she’d seen it. Besides, she knew how lumpy and uncomfortable the sofa was, and it didn’t mesh with how she hoped the night would turn out. 

“Why don’t you show me the other rooms first and after, you can tell all about those plans, yeah? Great.” Again, she pulled him along in the search for somewhere more proper to get to know him better like Alicia had got to know Higgs better (though, unlike her friend, she’d like to keep her clothes on for the foreseeable future). 

This, in all fairness, could have been the room behind the next door. Alas, in her inexperience, Katie failed to see how the grand kitchen (which, admittedly was really, really impressive with its black granite countertops and shiny white cupboards with oversized handles) could be utilised to make her modest fantasies come true. She'd master that particular ability much (well, not so much) later.

In contrast to the empty hallway and living, the kitchen seemed to be the only room in use so far. Shiny pots and pans hung above cooker, and dirty dishes and empty beer bottles sat on the counter. That combined with the crusty green spots on the tiled walls behind the sink could only mean one thing.

“Oh, good, you can cook, we won’t starve, then. I’m rubbish at it if you must know. The last time I tried to make meat pasties the chimney caught fire...” 

Marcus stopped listening, wanting to protest and tell her that the only one who had cooked in there since his move had been his sister Mary, and that had been to warm some foul-smelling spinach sludge for her youngest. But, something about what she said made him pause. He just couldn’t put his finger on what that was, though. Not that it mattered in the grand scheme of things. She was still holding his hand and stood close enough for him to look down her shirt and admire how good lace suited her. 

Lucky for him, Katie didn’t mind his wandering eyes. If anything, she encouraged it by puffing out her chest and standing as close as possible without rubbing herself against his legs like a cat in heat. You can’t blame a girl for enjoying the attention she’d craved for so long, can you? It felt great to be considered one, a girl that is, for a change. McLaggen and his sticky hands didn’t count, of course.

“So, how many more rooms are there left to show?” Fuelled by a sudden surge of boldness, she manoeuvred his arm around her shoulders; just as she’d seen her friends do with their boyfriends. Flint wasn’t hers yet, but that wouldn’t stop her from playing pretend. And maybe, he’d get the hint and change that situation. When he stiffened at the gesture, she did the same and looked up in panic, thinking that she’d overdone it. Maybe, she’d misjudged his interest, and he was all about gawking down her shirt and no action. 

Marcus blinked rapidly, dumbfounded once again by her forwardness. Silently, he began counting to ten as he waited for her to realise her mistake and move away. Because her standing in his embrace must have been some kind of weird accident, and before you’d know it, she’d regain her senses, laugh at him for thinking it meant something, and slither ten feet away. That didn’t happen, though; she stayed right where she was, staring up at him with the same uncertainty that he was feeling. 

It wasn’t an accident, then. Right?

Slowly, to test the waters, he relaxed his arm, and when her frown turned into a smile, he even dared to tug her closer and mirrored her wide grin with one of his own. Huh, who would have guessed that it would be that easy?

His flat got incredibly hot when she started blinking rapidly, puckered her lips and stood on her tiptoes. Was this the moment? Gods, this was the moment; he'd better do something. Would she mind if he put his hands on her tits or should he behave and touch her bum first and move up from there? Maybe, he just needed to put his mouth on hers and see what happened next.

Unfortunately, the magical window of opportunity to dip his head to meet her halfway for his first ever kiss closed with a loud bang, three padlocks, and layer of cement for good measure when a booming voice echoed across the hallway.

“Sis, are you there? Katie? Hullo-ho? Are you decent? Merlin, please, tell me you’re decent.”

“Micky?” 

Marcus’s earlier fear came true when Katie indeed slithered from his side and hurried to the hearth without as much as a glance back. Sighing deeply and silently cursing Boy Bell for ruining what could have been the best moment of his life ever, he trudged after her, moping and pouting. By the time he came to stand behind her, she had already crouched to her knees and was stabbing her finger at her brother’s floating head, her eyes narrowed, and lips curled up in malice.

“Dammit, stay still,” she hissed when Boy Bell kept evading her attempts at gauging his eyes out. Briefly, she turned around to flash Marcus a sweet smile before she concentrated on Michael again. “I’m busy here. What do you want?”

“Yeah, Dad told me you kidnapped Flint, you perv.” Michael tutted as he tried to peer past her shoulder to see more of Marcus than his trouser-clad legs. “Have you hit your head again or are you just that desperate? It’s no secret that he’s bonkers, but what about you?”

“Oi, what’s that supposed to mean?” Marcus called out. If it hadn’t been for Katie pushing him back when he tried to reach around her, he would have pulled Boy Bell from the fire and reacquaint him with his knuckles.

“What do you want, Micky? Shouldn’t you be in your room practising your Snape moves?”

“Snape moves?” Marcus muttered quietly. He had always known that boy Bell was a few bricks short of a load. 

“I've mastered the billowing robes already, but thank you for your concern,” Michael answered unfazed. He disappeared a few seconds from sight, and when he returned, he waved with a torn envelope and wore a sly grin. “I keep forgetting to tell you about a letter that came for you a few days ago. Since Dad mentioned you were with Flint, I reckoned that now is a good time as any to tell you about it. Otherwise, I’d probably keep on forgetting. Those potion fumes turn my brain into mush and make me forgetful sometimes, you understand.”

“What letter? Why is it open?” Katie reached to grab it, but he jumped back just in time. “Michael,” she said with a low growl as she held out her hand.

Behind her, Marcus turned pale. He recognised the emblem on the envelope. Something about what coach Ruckus had said about rejects and such made him feel quite queasy on the inside as he realised that he had misjudged Katie’s insistence that she hadn’t heard anything back yet. 

“I thought it was for me,” Michael answered with a shrug. “Mistakes happen, sissy. Katie, Michael, it all reads the same. Anyways, it’s from the Tutshill Tornadoes. Didn’t you try out for the team or something?”

“You arsehole!” Katie lunged at him, her upper body briefly disappearing into the flames before Marcus pulled her back by the waistband of her trousers. A small puff of smoke circled above her head, and her chest was heaving when she fell back onto her bum. 

“You know, maybe, uhm, yeah.” Marcus wracked his brain to come up with something to distract her in hopes to win time and talk to Ruckus first thing in the morning. He needed to convince him to change his mind. As Captain of the team, he ought to have some say in the selection. Sadly, neither brother nor sister paid any attention to his mumblings.

Whereas Katie cursed at her brother, Michael just laughed and proceeded with taking the letter out the envelope and reading it aloud.

“…not selected for the team, nor do we feel that placing you in one of our reserve teams would be beneficial to either party. Feel free to apply for next year’s tryout rounds. In the meantime, we wish you all the luck in your further endeavours,” Michael concluded on the top of his lungs. “Aww, looks like you’ve cocked up. But, didn’t he tell you, though? Oh, well, sounds like selling sausages with Dad is your true fate. See ya’ later, Sissy.”

Before he ended the Floo-call, Michael crumpled the letter into a wad and threw it at Katie, hitting her forehead. His cackles still rang in her ears when she finally got up again, her vision blurry and hands balled into tight fists by her thighs. She didn’t face Marcus, just kept looking at her shoes and sniffling.

“I’m sorry. I swear I didn’t know, honest,” Marcus rushed. His arms awkwardly hung in the air. He’d like to touch her again; that wasn’t the problem. He was just unsure about the logistics. Should he hug her or pat the top of her head in consolation like his grandfather used to do? Or maybe, he should stand next to her so she could lift his arm around her shoulders again. 

“I believe you, I think.” She nodded without looking up. “It’s just… I, ah, I should go home now.” 

“No, no, stay, we can talk about it. I’ll call Ruckus and ask-”

“S’okay, but I need to get going.” Her already quivering bottom lip stuck out farther when Marcus protested again. Finally, having had enough, she held up her hand to silence him. “I need to cry, and I want to do that at home… with Mum, alright? I-I cry ugly, so…”

Marcus deflated at her words and nodded; his sisters were ugly criers with lots of snot and sodden handkerchiefs, and he understood the need to do that in private lest others are traumatised. As he threw a handful of Floo powder into the fireplace, he felt sad that this strange thing with Bell had ended before it had a chance to start. Merlin, he couldn’t imagine how much she hated him right now. He would have had the roles been reversed.

“Thank you,” Katie mumbled as she stepped into the emerald green flames, still sniffling. Just as she was about to call ‘Bell Cottage’ a sudden thought hit her and despite feeling sorry for herself, she scowled at the realisation. She ducked and pulled at Marcus’s trousers until he squatted to her level. “Take me out for dinner on Saturday, alright? We can try again. Oh, I like pink lilies and chocolate.”

Much later that night, as Katie ugly-cried herself to sleep in her mother’s arms, Michael was out celebrating his latest joke on his sister with his friends, and John Bell tried to figure out what was wrong with his son, Marcus still sat on his knees staring into the ashes. He had one hand on his shirt where Katie had grabbed him and the other on the corner of his mouth where she had planted a quick kiss.

He had a date, an official date with a real girl and smelly flowers and going out in public and whatever came with it. Recalling the disastrous results of such events in the past, he didn't feel as confident about Saturday evening than he should have felt. It was too planned, thus too jinxed. There was no way it could end well.

“I’m fucked.” 

Just not in the way he had hoped to be.


	11. The first time they went on an official date. Thank Merlin, it ended with a kiss. And fireworks. Don't forget the fireworks.

After the less than a desirable end to Girl Bell's visit to his flat, the week passed in a blur for Marcus. Despite his fears of it ending like all his previous dates, he didn't have too much time to sit still and worry about mucking up the date itself. The gruelling training schedule that Ruckus had exposed him to just for the fun of it, the hours he spent with Higgs and Pucey on how to date a girl accordingly, and then again the hours his father had spent to correct the nonsense his friends put in his head there hadn't been much time to worry. That had only hit him full force just a few minutes before he was supposed to pick Katie up. But by then, his mother and sisters had already shoved him out the house and told him to have fun before they slammed the door in his face.

With the expensive Belgian chocolates under his arm and a large bouquet of pink lilies in his hands he'd spent a week's worth of wage on, he trudged up and down the garden to win some time since he still had ten minutes to kill. Unbeknown to him, his mother and three of his sisters had gathered by the small kitchen window to ensure he didn't come running back, or so they told themselves. In reality, they were excited to witness Marcus go on a date. Being the professional snooper she was, Ellie had brought her husband's omnioculars and gave a live report about everything her little brother did, interlaced with the current state of affairs over at the Bell House.

"You' lot are horrible. I can't believe we're related," Lizzy bemoaned her mother and sisters as she poured another tea for her father. "At least be a little less obvious about it."

"Hush, I'm taking notes here." Mary held up a small piece of parchment as she kept her gaze fixed on her brother. "Alfie's wants to ask the Fortescue twins out on a date. He'll need to know what not to do."

"Twins?" Will looked up from his tea, frowning. "At the same time?"

Mary hummed in reply. "Yeah, something about spreading his chances and whatnot. One of them is bound to say yes. He's a charmer that one."

"By asking them at once?" Will rubbed his face, wondering if he was getting too old to understand today's youngsters. "Why don't you ask Gary to help him out, then, instead of spying on Marcus?"

Lexie snorted at the suggestion, which earnt her slap upside the head from her sister. "Oi, what was that for?" she asked as she rubbed the sore spot, barely containing her sniggers.

"You know damn well that Gary is more pants at it than Marcus is," Mary hissed and briefly flashed their mother an innocent smile before she turned her scowl to her sister again.

Will glanced at Lizzy, the only one of his girls who had turned out somewhat normal. She merely shrugged, wearing an expression that told him not to ask lest she'd have to lie.

"Hush now, he went through the bushes," Sally interrupted the little squabble between her daughters and pushed them aside. As she craned her neck to have a better view, she asked Ellie, "Anything to report yet?"

"Marcus is talking to himself as usual." Ellie directed her omnioculars up, fidgeting with the buttons. "Micky's still missing, dead I reckon. John is reading the Prophet, and Katie- Oh, wait, there's Grace. Yeah, that doesn't look good."

"What?" four voices asked at once, Will being the loudest of them all.

Lizzy cocked her brow at her father for his surprisingly enthusiastic reaction. "Getting nosy at your old age?"

"He's my little boy," he mumbled sheepishly. "It's a big day for him."

"You were never so excited about us girls going on dates or called it big days."

"Because they weren't." Suddenly interested in his tea, Will hoped Lizzy wouldn't ask further. Of course, she did and nudged his side, quite hard, when he didn't answer soon enough for her liking. "Well, ah, you know…"

"No, I don't know."

Unaware of her father and sister's little quarrel about the differences between sending a daughter or a son on a date, Ellie continued her report. "Katie's in her room, in her bra and knickers, and that's the fourth bag of Chocolate Frogs she's opened. I don't think Marcus has to pay for dinner tonight."

"She's not dressed?" Sally shrieked, already seeing her carefully constructed plans fall apart. "A few minutes ago you said she was ready to go."

Ellie lowered her viewers, grinning from ear to ear. "Well, she was. But it looks like Grace has different ideas about what 'ready' means. I can't say I blame her on that one."

"Was it that bad?" Mary asked, trying hard to keep a straight face.

"Oh yeah. Remember the blue dress Lizzy wore to Cousin Freddie's wedding? The one with the ruffles on the on the sleeves?" Ellie asked. Her grin turned into a smirk when Lizzy's face turned a bright red; _she_ clearly remembered that disaster. Gods, they had a good laugh that day by tricking her into wearing fancy-dress to a wedding. "You know the one with the near sheer, very short skirt and the lace at the front."

"Bloody cunts," Lizzy muttered under her breath. "You had to bring that up."

"Language!" Sally scolded and turned to Ellie again. "What about it?"

"Well, it looks like our little Katie also has a randy side. I wonder where she got hers." She ducked just in time to evade the bright green flash Lizzy flung her way.

As rehearsed, Mary and Lexie burst out in fake ooh's and ah's. Will preferred to pretend that something got stuck in his throat while Sally grimaced as she thought back about how she'd burnt the piece of scrap posing as a dress. The idea that Katie wore something like that was rather off-putting. Then again, knowing her son, he might have appreciated it. A sudden thought popped up, making her roll her eyes.

"Tell me you didn't…"

"Don't look at me." Mary held up hands to emphasise her innocence, which she wasn't.

"Alan and his wandering hands sure had easy access that night," Lexie continued unfazed, rubbing more salt into the wound. "Merlin, I thought his face got stuck to your chest for good. Did you give him a straw to breathe through?"

"Shut up, you hag," Lizzy hissed as she eyed her father, who had screwed his eyes shut and his hands clasped over his ears. Her mother didn't look all too pleased either. Needing a distraction, she cocked her chin at Ellie, "Focus on the other side, yeah? What's happening now?"

Despite their mother's swat on her bum and promises to pull her over her knee if she didn't straighten out this instant, Ellie couldn't stop laughing. That faded into sniggers when she brought up her omnioculars. "Ladies and Daddy, get your cloaks; it's show time."

***

Scowling at her mother, who was doing her best to turn her wardrobe upside down, Katie crammed another Chocolate Frog into her mouth. The lovely dress that someone had owled her -no sender or return address, but with a short note telling her to enjoy her date- lay in a heap on the floor. The fake gems stitched on the bodice twinkled happily in the waning sunlight, begging her to pick it up and wear it. A complete stranger had cared enough about her to send a dress while her own mother did her best to ensure her date turned into a flop.

Sure, the skirt was a bit short, and the front didn't close completely, no matter how tightly she pulled the sating lace together. And true, it was a bit on the deep-cut side with the tops of her bra peeping out, but it was beautiful and sparkly, dammit. It was everything she needed to feel good about herself after the week she had and her mum just refused to see it.

"Not fair," Katie muttered between chomps. "Why are you so mean to me? What have I ever done to you?"

Grace didn't bother turning around or dignify that with a reply since it was exactly what Katie had been repeating the whole week and frankly, she'd reached her limit. Honestly, if Katie thought that wearing that torn flannel on her date was a good idea, she had another thing coming.

"There," Grace held up a black shirt and dark blue jeans. Plain and boring: the perfect first date outfit. Before Katie could baulk, she tossed the clothes on the bed and hurried to the door. "Don't bother coming down if you're not going to wear those. Better wash your face before you come down as well. You look like a hag that's fallen into a bucket of paint."

"No-ho, I want to wear the dress, and I like my face as it is."

Grace raised her brows, unimpressed. When Katie slowly got up and reached for the dress, she shrugged. "Fine, you're staying in, then. I'll let your dad know to send Marcus home when comes to pick you up."

"I'm of age- No, Mum!" As the door closed behind her cackling mother, Katie let out a low growl and dropped back on the bed. Empty chocolate bags and wrappers crunched underneath her as she tossed her arm over her carefully made-up eyes. Tears welled up as she wondered what she'd done to deserve such a cruel life. Between her slave driver parents forcing her to work her fingers to the bone at the butchery per her destiny, and her brother -or the second coming of Voldemort as she liked to call him these days- getting rejected by the Tornadoes had turned into the least of her woes.

Unfortunately, she couldn't dwell too long in her misery when her mother flung the door open again and clapped her hands.

"He's almost here. If you still want to go on your date, you have five minutes get dressed and leave before I let Micky out the cellar. Take your pick."

***

"Knock on the door, ask if she's ready, and wait. Easy peasy," Marcus said in a bid to boost up his confidence as he slowly waded through the tall grass to the Bell's front door. Although he was nervously excited about having a date, he couldn't shake off the feeling that somehow something was bound to go wrong. If he didn't cock it up, some outside force surely would find a way to restore the balance in the universe. Because someone voluntarily wanting to go out with him, telling him to take her out, was bound to have caused an imbalance somewhere.

"No to touching without asking, no to asking to touch," he repeated his father's lesson as climbed the stone steps up to the door and knocked. Call him crazy, but he was quite sure that Girl Bell wouldn't mind some groping. Merlin, he sure wouldn't if she did. Anywhere, over and under his clothes. He wasn't picky.

His lips quirked up into a silly grin at the idea having Katie's hands all over his body and what it possibly could lead to. "Oh, yes, touching-"

"Touching what, son?"

Too engrossed with fantasising what girl Bell might want to do to him when he'd give her the chance, Marcus hadn't noticed John open the door. Startled, he snapped his eyes up and almost immediately averted them again. John stared at him as if he had read his mind, which was a bit unsettling because his own father did that too sometimes and always picked up on whatever it was he was trying to hide. And if he hadn't read his mind, he must have read his body.

"Ah, nothing?" Marcus mumbled as he moved the flowers and box of chocolates a little lower. When he dared to look up again, he cleared his throat a few times before he mustered enough courage to repeat the line his father made him learn by heart. "Good evening, sir. I've come for Katie. She told me to take her out on a date tonight."

"Told you? Yeah, I'm sure she did. She takes after her mother like that." Sighing, John stepped aside and gestured for Marcus to come in. "She isn't ready yet. You fancy a beer or two while you wait?"

Marcus debated whether he should accept or not. For all he knew, Boy Bell and John had plotted together against him and were after his blood. Hadn't Pucey said something about not taking drinks from anyone until he had Bell safe and sound on his arm and alone? Then again, his dad told him to be polite, no matter what. Refusing a free drink, a beer at that, was quite rude. Thankfully, he didn't have to wrack his brain for much longer when a soft voice said,

"No need, Dad, I'm ready to go."

***

Ever since she was old enough to think about it, Katie had an idea about how her first date was supposed to go. Her handsome Prince Charming with his shiny blond hair and bright white teeth would come to pick her up on his white stallion -which in later versions turned into a majestic Pegasus- and shower her with the largest bouquet of flowers and the biggest box of chocolates. Then, after numerous compliments and gushing about her natural beauty, he'd take her to the most expensive restaurant the magical world had to offer because money wouldn't be an objection since he'd be filthy rich. After the feasting on the priciest meal on the menu and the finest wine imaginable, he'd take her into his arms and fly into the sunset where he'd gently kiss her until she ran out of breath. And maybe, if she proved to be the best snogger ever, he'd put a ring on her finger and propose then and there because he didn't want to lose such a talented and gorgeous girl.

That was how she'd dreamt her first date to go. It wasn't exactly what she got, though. And surprisingly, she didn't mind.

There wasn't a blond god flying his Pegasus into the sunset or to an over-priced restaurant. Instead, her dark-haired date chose to stroll to Tinworth to have a bite at the only pub the village held. She loved mash and bangers and looked forward to an ice-cold pint to wash it down, so that wasn't a problem at all. He did say –stammered more like it- that she looked pretty, so there was that. He also gave her lilies with crushed stems and Belgian bonbons her mother most probably wolfed down the second the door closed. No, it wasn't exactly how she'd imagined it would be, but that didn't mean it was a disappointment.

In fact, it would be close to perfection if she'd figure out a way to start a conversation with the man sitting opposite her. She felt as tongue-tied as the last time she'd seen him and couldn't figure out why. In a desperate attempt to come up with something, she looked around. Other than a rowdy group in the very back, hidden behind big plants, the pub was as good as deserted. So far for gossiping about the other patrons as an ice-breaker.

"How was your week?" Marcus finally broke the silence as he looked up from his menu. According to Higgs, he ought to figure out if she held him responsible for not making it to the team before he bought her dinner. If that was the case, he needed to take her home immediately so he could keep his monies in his pocket.

"Fine, I guess," Katie said with a shrug. Looking back, maybe she had been a bit overly dramatic the first few days. "Mum and Dad got fed up with me crying after a few days. They said they'd rather listen to a cat in heat than me and made me come to the shop with them to work. Dad forbade me to work with the knives, though, but other than that it keeps me distracted enough."

Marcus gulped hard and braced himself for her to go off at him for making her cry. When that didn't happen, he wanted to apologise for her bad luck, just as his father told him to. Something about the gentlemanly thing to do.

"Look, I'm sorry for-"

"Don't," Katie cut him off, "It wasn't your fault. Unless you advised Ruckus not to pick me, there wasn't much you could have done, was there?"

"No, of course not!" Marcus hotly shook his head. Ruckus hadn't even cared to ask him for input even though he had demanded his presence during the try-outs. He could have spent that day sleeping off his hangover. But then again, he wouldn't have seen her fly.

"Well, then there's nothing to apologise for." Katie ducked her head in the menu and looked up at him from underneath her lashes. The small smile that had been playing on her lips grew wider when he let out a quiet sigh in relief. As discreetly as possible, she shuffled her feet bit closer until the noses of their shoes touched. "How was yours? Your week, I mean. Mum said that Sally said that they made you practice every day. I thought you'd have a summer holiday until August?"

"Ruckus made me come back for another week to teach me a new move. I've holiday starting today. You?"

"Working for Mum and Dad, that's it. Oh, and Alicia said that her dad would ask around at the Ministry if they're hiring. You know, just to proof Micky wrong about me selling sausages for the rest of my life."

"Yeah, sausages…" Marcus frowned when he noticed her pulling at her shirt. During his first date ever the girl had broken out in hives, blaming him for it. Was it happening again? Maybe, it was his cologne. "Are you alright?" he asked, fingers crossed underneath the table in hope that he was imagining things.

"Yeah, don't mind me." Katie pulled at the collar of her shirt for more air. "Mum made wear it, but it's a bit too tight."

He slyly studied her when she put away the menu to stretch out the fabric. She wore a simple black shirt, like his but a lot tighter. It didn't show much but the outlines of what was hiding underneath made up more than enough. He didn't realise that he was nodding in appreciation until he caught her eye and saw the smirk on her face. Lifting his menu high to hide his face, he mumbled, "Looks good on you."

"Thank you, you clean up nice, too." Katie balled her fist in victory when he chuckled. Now to keep the conversation going. "I was supposed to wear something else, you know."

"Oh?" Marcus put his menu down, pretty sure that she wouldn't mind him ogling her. With a cock of his chin, he said, "What's better than a tight shirt showing off, uh, those."

"A dress that showed off even more. Much more low-cut. Like this," Katie answered as she pointed at her breasts. "You see my bra line here? It only came up to there." Her chest swelled with pride when he nearly choked on his pint. Score two for her. "My Mum said she'd drag me back and lock me up if I dared to put it on. Something about cows and free milk."

"That's a pity." Marcus wiped his wet chin with the back of his hand. Great, now he got the image of her tits spilling out stuck in his mind. He needed something else to talk about before he'd lift the table up in the air without the aid of his wand or hands. "So, uh, you got the talk as well?"

"Talk?"

"Yeah, the free cow thing? My Dad went on and on about Thestrals and carts, and keeping my hands to myself-"

"You don't need to do that," Katie interjected hastily. Curse that old man Flint and his morals. "You can touch some parts if you want, I won't mind. Promise."

A loud bang followed by what seemed to be a heated argument in hushed tones in the very back interrupted what Marcus wanted to reply, which was for the best. An 'okay' and 'let's go back to my flat' was on his lips, but the interruption reminded him about the rules his father had ordered him to follow. Food, light chitchat, and if Girl Bell was willing, he was allowed one kiss on her cheek after he'd brought her back home. He crossed his fingers in hope that the last part would be more than a peck on the cheek.

Clearing his throat and thinking about his Great-Aunt Eunice with the prickly moustache to calm down the battle going on in his trousers, he pointed at the menus. "I'll, uhm, keep that mind. Definitely. So, are you ready to order?"

The night progressed comfortably after that. Food and beers were served, they talked about school and the people they knew. There exchanged some gossip and chuckles about Alicia and Terence and how strange they were behaving lately. Marcus talked for nearly an hour about his time in Portugal and all the things he'd seen and learnt, which didn't seem to bore Katie for a minute. In return, she told him about playing Quidditch on the Gryffindor team, Oliver's tyranny, and her insecurities about what she was supposed to do now that a professional career wasn't in the books for her. She didn't laugh at him as his friends had done at hearing about his previously failed dates -if anything, she was offended on his behalf. And he didn't understand why no one had snagged her up already.

As the night progressed, Marcus found himself smiling broader and broader. For the first time since reacquainting, he noticed the little things about her he hadn't before. He liked the way her dark hair shone in the dim light, the way she threw her head back when she laughed, and how the stars sparkled in her brown eyes when she talked about Quidditch and her friends. He could watch for hours how she deftly cut and rearranged the food in four neat piles on her plate before she dug in as if she hadn't eaten in weeks. He appreciated that she didn't hold back, food or beer-wise, and was impressed that she was able to keep up with his appetite and thirst. But the most of all, he loved how she listened to him, paid attention to him, and didn't seem to mind being here with him instead of continuously scanning the pub for an easy way out or a familiar face so she could run off to. He liked Katie Bell, he realised. More than the wanting-to-get-his-hands-on-her like. That too, of course, but the other kind of like as well.

By the time their desserts were devoured and the last drop of beer drunk, Katie came to the same realisation. As she watched him pay for their dinner over at the bar, she lamented the end of their night. She loved to hear him talk; his deep voice had the ability to put her at ease in the few moments she'd felt uneasy. She wanted to make him laugh so she could watch his Adam's apple bob up and down again. She wanted to travel to Portugal and scold those girls who had dared to blow him off like that. He didn't make her feel like a little girl like some of her friends and family often did. He listened to her, offered advice on what to do with her career without ridiculing her failed Quidditch dream. He didn't tell her that she ate like a man or that she should act more ladylike like her mum often did. He didn't even bat an eye when she burped, only upped her one. With him, she was able to be herself, flaws and all. But most of all, she wanted the night to last forever, tucked in his side with his arm wrapped around her. She wanted to press her ear against his chest to feel his voice. She liked him, Katie realised, more than the I-want-to-see-you-without-your-shirt-and-lick-your-face like. That too, of course, but it was more of the other like.

And here they were now, slowly walking home in a comfortable silence as the stars sparkled high up in the dark sky. Unlike the beginning of the evening, Marcus didn't worry about how to keep the conversation going nor did he break out in a cold sweat when he felt her fingers brush against his. He didn't wrack his brain to figure out if this was one of the clues Higgs had said he should be aware of. Instead, he muttered a quick prayer to Merlin and grabbed her hand when it happened again. For the longest two seconds, he waited for her to pull back. That didn't happen, and he remembered that she'd said that she didn't mind touching.

The rest of the walk passed in a comfortable silence with Katie now and then squeezing his hand as she quietly hummed off-tune. He didn't quite recognise what it was supposed to be, but he didn't mind listening either. By the time her house came into sight, he dreaded the idea of letting go.

Katie, too, had the same idea. She let out a deep sigh when she noticed the light behind the kitchen blinds and a shadow pacing behind it. "Almost home." Her grip on his hand tightened as she wondered if it would be too forward to ask him to take her to his flat for a final drink.

"Yeah, I-" Marcus threw her a side-eyed glance as he debated whether he ought to ask permission first or just kiss her.

"You what?" She stopped and pulled him closer when he stayed quiet. "What did you want to say?"

He scratched his head as he stared at her, stammering and searching for words that refused to spill out. To his utter frustration, she dropped his clammy hand when behind them in the woods twigs broke and people laughed. Whoever it was, once he got his hands on them they'd be in a world of hurt for making this moment harder than it already was.

Still, Katie hadn't moved away from him. If anything, he was sure that she was closer now than she'd been a few blinks ago. She was smiling as those stars twinkled in her eyes again. He wanted to brush his thumbs over her flushed cheeks to feel if they were as warm as they looked. But instead, he stood there, gawking at her like some pillock who lost the ability to string a few words together.

Thankfully, Katie didn't have that problem. She put his hands on his cheeks and stood on her toes. What he'd fantasised of doing, she did, brushing her thumb just above his lip. His heart began hammering in his chest and just like a few weeks ago, he hoped that this would be it.

"Marcus?"

"Y-yes?"

"Are you gonna kiss me anytime soon?"

"Yes."

"When?"

"Now." He tucked a stranded lock of hair behind her ear which was blocking the most beautiful face he'd ever seen and narrowed the distance between them. He could feel her breath on his. Gently, he cupped her face with one hand, and as he closed his eyes, he pressed his lips to hers. Her arms locked around his neck, pulling him down slightly. Soft and slow, back and forth. And as her lips parted ever so slightly and allowed him in, she tasted like a summer night, like beer on a hot day, and strawberries with cream. He couldn't get enough of it.

For that single moment, time stopped. It was just Marcus and Katie. He understood now what people meant when they'd say that it felt like fireworks going off. Merlin, he could practically hear it through the blood drumming in his ears and see the bright lights behind his closed lids.

He wasn't near ready to let go or open his eyes when she pulled away. The way she settled against his chest, nuzzling the crook of his neck felt good, heavenly even, but he wanted to feel her lips on his again, taste her and maybe feel her up this time around.

"That's sweet of you," Katie murmured.

"What is?" The words came slurred and he couldn't find himself to care. He was drunk. Drunk of her kisses, the sweet scent of her hair and perfume, and he needed a new fix soon.

"The fireworks, how did-" Katie's let out an angry shriek and stomped her feet. "Oh, Merlin's left ball! Really Mum?"

It was how Marcus had imagined the night to end. In the scenario he'd envisioned, they'd snog, snog some more, he'd get to fondle her a bit as she did with him. Then they'd kiss for the last time before he delivered her at the doorstep and they'd agree to see each other in the morning again because, you know, why wait. In the worst case, they'd shake hands, agree that it had been a pleasant evening but not something either would like to repeat.

What Marcus, or Katie for that matter, hadn't counted on was to see his whole family shoulder to shoulder with John and Grace Bell shooting sparks into the night sky to cheer them on. He hadn't counted on their mothers to clutch handkerchiefs to her chests as they cried while they told everyone it was happy tears. He screwed his eyes shut when his father passed a bottle of Firewhisky to John while his sisters took pictures.

"So," Katie began, shaking her head in annoyance. "Looks like the date is over, yeah?"

"Yeah, I guess so." He shook his head at his father, disappointed that the old man hadn't stopped the wenches from embarrassing him like this. Any minute now, Katie was going to say that he wasn't worth the hassle and who could blame her.

"I'll walk you to the door?" He'd like to get rejected without an audience, thank you very much.

"Sure, but before you do..." Katie narrowed her eyes at her mother and waved her fist when the older woman whistled quite shrilly.

"Before I do?"

"Before you do…" Katie wrapped her arms around his neck again and pulled him down. "Before you do, you'll have to ask me for another date."

"Oh? Uhm, tomorrow?" Marcus asked hopefully in a high-pitched voice.

"Pick me up for breakfast." With that, Katie reached up for another kiss. If their families wanted a show, she'd gladly give them one.

As her scent and taste overflowed his senses again, and her body pressed more firmly to his than it had done before, Marcus realised what a lucky bastard he was. All he had to do no now was not cock it up.


	12. The first time they had an apparently much-needed conversation. It only took Rita Skeeter, rabble-rousing friends, and Charlie Weasley to get there. Oh, and Marcus has a tattoo somewhere.

When young, summers have the tendency to last a lifetime. School is out, the days last longer, and if planned right and the weather is willing you’ll want to spend your days outside. As you grow older and take the first steps into adulthood, you might get a summer job to have a bit more pocket money. And sometimes, if you're lucky, you’ll meet someone. Somebody who makes your heart flutter by merely smiling at you. Someone who occupies your every thought and as soon as they're out of sight, all you can think about is the next time you’ll see them again.

In the very beginning, you’ll steal a few kisses here and there. Of course, you’ll do this away from prying eyes, somewhere in the cooling shade to counter your overheated body. Slowly, those shy kisses will evolve into full snogging on the beach because the sweltering sun and the state of near undress of that special person will make you forget your surroundings or plainly, not give a single damn. And by the end of the day, as you sit on the still warm sand, entwined in each other’s arms while you watch the orange sun sink into the happily glistening sea, all you can wish and hope for is the summer to last forever.

Katie and Marcus had one of those summers. Except for the days that Katie was to work at the butchery and Marcus’ weeklong stay in Zante with a large group of friends, they had spent all their free time together. The weeks flew by so fast that Katie suspected Michael of messing with her calendar somehow. He hadn't, for a change, but wasn't all that happy about his little sister dating the brute next door either. Only his father promises of severe punishment if he dared to step out of line, which the old man hadn't ever done before, kept him from putting an end to the romance. 

In an obvious way, that is.

Nevertheless, as an unusually hot July month quickly rolled into even hotter August, the harsh reality that was adult life sneakily lured our lovebirds away from their happy cocoon. 

For Marcus, real life started on a Friday morning mid-August with the first training session of the new Quidditch season. The club management had invited hordes of reporters to witness the moment in hopes they'd praise the new and improved first team in their articles. After that, a ‘spontaneous’ photoshoot and the obligatory Q and A session followed. As the Captain, Marcus was the chosen one to sit next to Ruckus and answer most the questions, which he handled like the professional he was.

“…that’s when you need to stoke up the fire, yeah? If you wait too long, you’ll ruin everything. Don't forget, though, just before you push it in you’ll have to glaze with an egg. You know, for the finishing touch.” Marcus flashed the reporters a broad smile when he noticed the raised brows and the exchange of confused looks. Had he forgotten something? He wasn’t a chef or anything or even tried his hand at it in real life, but he knew few things thanks to his mum. “Thirty minutes, s’all.”

Behind him, his teammates had trouble keeping a straight face, coughing and snorting to cover up their laughs. But most importantly, Ruckus, the epitome of the stiff upper lip, cracked a small smile. He, Marcus Flint, had managed to make the old man smile. That had to be the greatest accomplishment in his career thus far.

“He meant the other Caerphilly, _Quidditch_ Caerphilly,” Ruckus whispered and patted his shoulder, “Good job, son.”

“I know. Thank you.” Marcus puffed out his chest in pride and bared his teeth in a face-splitting grin, which made most of the reporters uncomfortable. Yeah, he still had it, all right.

Bright bulbs flashed now and then, capturing one of the greatest moments in his life. He could only imagine how horrible he looked in those photographs. Not that he cared too much about how others perceived him. If anything, the more he’d manage to ruin the photos the better. It served them nosy lot right for asking stupid questions. Why on earth would they think that he’d reveal his top-secret, guaranteed-to-win tactics for the upcoming season? He wasn’t that slow.

“The last question, please. My boys and girls need their rest.” Ruckus stood up, his hands on his hips as he surveyed the room. His beady eyes narrowed when he concluded that the reporters had asked their maximum of four, mostly dull-witted, questions. All except one, and by the looks of it, she was dying to get her chance. “No one? No?”

Like Ruckus, Marcus had noticed the last reporter standing and tried his best not to have any form of eye-contact with her. In fact, the lint on his dark trousers suddenly looked mighty impressive. He hadn’t had the misfortune of dealing with the woman before, and he’d like to delay that moment for as long as possible. 

“We’re done here then,” Ruckus said hastily. “Great, thank you for your time.”

Unfortunately, it wasn’t meant to be. 

“I have a few questions.” Marcus and Ruckus winced at the same time, both wanting to pretend that they hadn’t heard the woman and leave the stage as quickly as possible. But she was faster than the men had given her credit for.

Rita Skeeter, dressed and coiffed as impeccable as always, had already clawed her way to the front of the group before Marcus had the chance to get up. He swallowed hard when he noticed the Quick-Quotes Quill already scribbling in the notepad floating behind her, waiting for him to say something rash and turn it upside down to use it against him. 

_‘Play it cool,’_ Marcus repeated over and over again in his head. Skeeter was notorious for making a mountain out a molehill, twisting words, and the general rubbish that came with being a gossipmonger. He couldn’t afford to say the wrong things to her. You couldn’t win with her kind.

“Hullo,” she drawled into speaking stick in front of the stage the team stood displayed on. “I'm Rita Skeeter, writer for the Daily Prophet. But, of course, you know that, don't you, Phineas?”

Ruckus grumbled under his breath as he flopped down in his chair. “How could I forget, love? Get on with it; my boys and girls need their rest.”

“Thank you.” Rita turned her attention to Marcus, looking him up and down. Her tight smile turned into a sneer when he didn’t squirm like most of the other witches and wizards she’d interviewed before. He merely stared at something behind her, his mouth slightly agape. “Can I call you Marcus?” she asked sweetly.

Marcus blinked slowly, smacking his lips as if he’d just woken up. For good measure, he rubbed his eyes with the heels of palms and squinted at Skeeter pretending to think it over. While he hoped that all her questions would be as easy to answer as that one, he had a gut feeling that he was fooling himself. 

“No” he answered when he couldn’t delay it any longer. “Next question.”

Rita huffed and righted her cat-eye glasses, offended by the young man’s lack of manners. “Well then, _Mister_ Flint, can you tell us something about your private life so that our readers can get to know you better?”

“No. It’s got nothing to do with Quidditch or the Tornadoes.” Ha, take that old beetle. After years of playing with Braga and seeing his teammates get burnt with those kinds of questions, Marcus knew better than to give in. 

“Of course, it has.” Skeeter raised her brows, blinking in surprise at such an answer. Choosing her words carefully so that she wouldn't be asking a question by accident, she pressed further. 

“Sources tell me that you’ve been entertaining yourself with a girl who tried out for the Tornadoes but didn’t make it. Rumour has it that you advised against hiring her because you don't want your one-offs near once you're finished with them. I’m sure my readers would like to know what sort of men the Tornadoes’ management is hiring these days while pretending to be a family-friendly club.” 

“What’s she talking about?” Ruckus hissed.

“Nothing,” whispered Marcus before he turned to Skeeter again. “Was there a question in there?”

“I’ve noticed that you’re not denying.” Blood-red painted lips curled up into a sly smile. “It must be killing her that a cheap fling has cost her spot on the team.”

“Who’s she talking about?” Ruckus asked again as he grabbed Marcus’ arm under the table and quickly eyed the three young female players behind them. “Hands off your teammates, Flint; it will cost you your position.”

“I know, I know, don’t worry. She’s talking about no-one special, some random chit probably. Honestly, she’s full if it.” Too late, he realised that he had said it too loud.

“Oh, she’s a no-one, is she? And _I_ am full of it?” Skeeter chuckled when Marcus held up three fingers. “Answer the question at least. That poor innocent girl, from what I hear, she’s spent her whole summer with you. I’m sure that when she opens the Prophet tomorrow and reads how you’ve called her a no-one, not even a summer fling, she’s going to feel horrible. Any respectable witch would.” 

“Pff, respectable…” Marcus had to snort at that part. Judging by the things Katie sometimes blurted out of the blue, he was sure that she had a dirtier mind than he had. As soon as he realised his second mistake, he gritted out, “That's not what I meant. You can’t print that. I forbid it.”

“You can't forbid me anything. Besides, I wouldn’t know what you’ve said since you didn’t answer my question.” Skeeter pouted her lips as she regarded him over the rim of her glasses. “Why don't you tell us what you meant, then? I have all day, Mister Flint.”

“She’s, uh, well, she’s my…” Marcus swallowed hard. Why hadn't he thought about this sooner? 

He didn’t want Katie's name in the papers. What if she didn't want his name associated with hers this early in their courting. But most of all, he hated that people tried to stick their big noses in his private business. He glanced at Ruckus from the corner of his eyes in the hopes for some support. The old bastard just cocked his brows at him, clearly annoyed about something or the other. 

“She’s… We’re old neighbours, s’all.”

Skeeter played her part well. She gasped as she clutched her pearls and her eyes widened in shock as if she hadn’t heard something that outrageous before. The finishing touch to her act was when she summoned a photograph from the crocodile-skin handbag by her feet and held it out to Marcus and Ruckus. At seeing the former’s cheeks redden and the latter pinch the bridge of his nose, her sly smile reappeared. 

“Old neighbours, you say? Do you always kiss your neighbours like that? Or just impressionable young no-ones? She looks barely legal, to be honest.”

"Well, she is- I don’t see how that’s your business. Stop twisting my words,” Marcus snapped, the restraints on his temper quickly fading. He wanted to say more, curse her out, but Ruckus grabbed his wrist and squeezed it hard as he shook his head at him. The message was clear: anything he was to say from now on would only make it worse.

When he was sure that Marcus wouldn’t open his gob, Ruckus took the lead as he stood up and pointed at the door. “We’re done here. Ladies, gentlemen, thank you for your time, we’ll meet again before and after the first match in September. Except for you, Skeeter.”

As Ruckus ushered the rest of his teammates off stage and the room slowly emptied of the reporters, Marcus remained in his seat with his head in his hands. One of his teammates hissed 'pig' as she passed him. That didn't bode well. He could already see tomorrow’s headlines. 

“Maybe Katie won’t read the papers. Yeah, that might- Oh, who am I kidding?”

Of course, she’d read the papers tomorrow. He had been boasting about his first ever interview as a Captain for days now, and she’d promised to frame it for him.

Sighing deeply, he stood up when the cleaning crew turned off the lights in the room. He couldn't stall it any longer; a Floo-call he wasn't particularly looking forward to awaited him.

***

It was another one of those sweltering August Sundays you usually longed for on a cold winter’s day. One of those that once you got it, you wondered why in Merlin’s name you had ever wished for it. No breeze to cool off, no cooling charms robust enough to withstand the heat, and air so humid it made sweat collect on your skin and your hair frizz in all directions. It was one of those days you wished would end in a wall of rain to take the sting off the summer.

Since such tropical weather was a rarity, Katie had decided to enjoy the last day of her holiday to the fullest. And what better way to spend it at the beach with her friends. Her N.E.W.T. results were finally in (she'd passed all her exams, thank you for asking) and come tomorrow, she'd be a Ministry employee with big thanks to Mr Spinnet for pulling some strings. 

Being a man of his word, he'd helped her an entry-level job at the Interdepartmental Memo Office. From what Katie understood, she was to check and rewrite the memos from one department and send them through to another. It was nothing fancy or exciting, but it paid more than she’d ever make working for her father.

However, for now, she was still a carefree teenage girl enjoying the company of her dear friends. Sadly, those same friends had decided that having fun did not include Marcus because the boys in their little group didn’t like him. When push came to shove, the preference to stick with old friends was stronger than the desire to get to know old schoolyard enemies on another level. Although her friends’ careless disregard of Marcus was hurtful, Katie was intent on keeping her word to spend the day with the girls, and while she was busy with that, she’d gladly ignore those petty boys. 

So, here she was, dressed in her new two-piece bathing suit she’d bought with Marcus in mind and lazing around under the brolly with Angelina and Leanne -Alicia had cancelled on them for some vague reason. The twins and Lee were horsing around on the shoreline with the new couple, Demelza and Cormac. Surprisingly enough, those two had started dating out of nowhere a few days ago, and wandering-hands-Cormac was already well on his way to becoming a permanent fixture in their little group. Apparently, McLaggen was more likeable than Marcus was. Go figure. 

The soothing salve on her wound was the ‘sheer coincidence’ of Marcus and his friends deciding to spend the day at the beach as well. They’d even set up camp not all too far from them. What a small world it was. 

It felt horrid not to go up for a quick kiss (what if she forgot how to do it?) and a chat, but the little distance had some perks. For example, it gave Katie the opportunity to ogle Marcus without being too obvious about it. Since she had vowed to make the best of the day, she hadn't taken her eyes off him from the second he’d stepped on the beach. 

Her mouth had dried up when he took his shirt off and shimmied off his trousers. Seeing the muscles in his back roll just beneath the skin was breath-taking. The last time she’d seen him this near naked -well, she mostly remembered his pasty arse- he’d been sinewy boy with stick arms and legs. Now, not so much. Her mind came up with the wildest fantasies spurred by the skimpy and skin-tight swim shorts he was wearing. Of course, just as she was mid-fantasy about what she'd find under those shorts, Leanne had to go and disrupt it. 

Life was sodding unfair sometimes.

“So, is he your boyfriend or what?”

Katie, who had been pretending to read a Witch Weekly the whole time, froze at the remark. So, the girls had noticed his presence. Pretending it wasn’t a big deal so they wouldn’t start about her staring, she merely shrugged and lifted her magazine a bit higher to hide her flushed cheeks. 

“Is he?”

“We’re having loads of fun.” It sounded casual enough, and she was proud that she’d managed to say it so evenly. In reality, though, the simple question reminded her of the knots in her stomach that had been bothering her since Marcus' Floo-call last Friday. 

Angelina lowered her sunglasses, her brows raised in disbelief. “Fun? Nothing more?”

“More like what?” At her friends’ groans, Katie lowered her eyes to the pages of her magazine, only to realise that she’d been pretending to read _‘Ten Ways to Keep Your Wizard Satisfied in the Bedroom’_ the whole morning. Maybe it was worth saving this one for future purposes.

“Gods Katie, you know what we mean.” The last word hadn’t left her lips yet, or Leanne suddenly snapped her fingers. “He’s stringing her along, and she’s too blind to see it. I knew it!”

“He’s not,” Katie objected, but her friends weren’t listening. 

Angelina nodded in agreement with Leanne. “Yeah, you’re right. As long as she doesn’t grow a spine or makes a fuss, he won’t change a thing. I swear if I hadn’t forced Fred to sit down for a minute so I could ask him, we’d still be at that horrible going-on-dates stage.”

“I have a spine.” Scowling in outrage at such a suggestion, Katie glanced at her friends. What was wrong with going on dates? She liked doing that. The best part of their dates was when she got to snog him silly while wrapped up in his arms. “Make a fuss about what?”

Leanne let out an exaggerated sigh and rolled her eyes instead of answering, much to Katie’s annoyance. She was beginning to understand why her parents told her off each time she did that. It was infuriating.

“Answer the sodding question,” she snapped. The knots in her stomach grew tighter than before. What if she’d missed an opportunity with Marcus and doomed their ultimate love story in the process? She hated unhappy endings.

“Easy there. Have a drink. I think you need to cool off,” Angie placated and passed Katie a cold bottle of beer from the freezer box by her sunbed. “Look, we’ve all read the Prophet yesterday. He called you a random no-one and told everyone and their uncle that you’re just the bint next door who’s been chasing him for years. That’s not something a boyfriend would say.”

Katie blinked a few times. The first part sounded about right, but she was sure that Marcus hadn’t said anything like the second part. He would have told her if he had. “Why would you believe anything that Skeeter writes? She put words in his mouth; he said so. We’re dating. That makes him my boyfriend.”

Leanne shook her head. “No, no, no, it doesn’t work that way. You’re going on dates, s’all. You’re not _dating_ -dating. Not until you make it official.”

“I don’t understand. Make what official how?”

“Has he asked you to be his girlfriend?” Leanne asked.

“No.” Katie slightly leant to the side to catch a glimpse of Marcus. He was busy stretching, which would have been a welcome distraction from the girls' nagging. It didn’t help distract her now, though. Was he supposed to ask her to be his girlfriend? If so, why hadn't he?

“You'll need to have that fixed as soon as possible,” Angie decided. “If he doesn’t straight-out ask you one of these days, you need to sit him down for the talk.”

“The talk?” 

“Oh yes, _the talk_.” Leanne nodded as if that explained everything.

Katie took a swig from her beer to keep herself from lashing out. Behind Leanne, Marcus was waving at her when he noticed that she wasn’t reacting to his flexing. To her regret, she ignored that as well. She first needed to figure out what was wrong with what they had going on and see how to mend the damage. Who knew dating would be so difficult?

“Care to explain what _the talk_ entails?”

“Witch Weekly introduced the concept last year. Haven’t you read the article?” Seeing Katie shrug, Angelina smacked her forehead in despair. “Gods, you’re even worse than Alicia. You two are going to end up as old maids.”

Offended that Angelina would throw one of her fears in her face, Katie crossed her arms and stuck her chin in the air. She hated the obligatory Kneazles that came with spinsterhood. “We must have missed it. Why don’t you enlighten me?”

Angelina and Leanne exchanged a look Katie couldn’t appreciate for one minute. It reminded her too much of the way Micky looked at her each time he decided that she was too dim to understand something. 

“Well?”

“You need to tell him to shit or get off the pot,” Angelina deadpanned. Again, Leanne nodded along as if truer words hadn’t been spoken before. 

Katie pulled a face in disgust. She liked Marcus, she really did. The flutter of butterflies in her belly grew stronger after each new date he took her on, and she got to know and understand him better. But the idea of him taking a-

A slap against her thigh interrupted that train of thought.

“Figuratively speaking, you bint,” Angie corrected her, wagging her finger. “If he doesn’t ask you to be his girlfriend, you’ll need to talk to him about it. If he refuses, you ought to part ways and find someone new.”

"Yeah, better yet, should start dating someone else before you have the talk. That'll keep Flint on his toes," Leanne encouraged. 

Angelina frowned, obviously wanting to disagree. However, Katie beat her to it.

“But-but why? I don’t want that!” She didn’t understand any of it. The amount of time she had spent with Marcus the past few weeks had to make them a couple. Besides, it wasn’t that easy to find a boyfriend; it took her more than eighteen years to bag Marcus. Where was she supposed to find a new one? Even Cormac was taken these days. Not that it mattered; Marcus was hers, dammit.

“So that he won’t call you a random no-one again when someone asks who you are,” Leanne replied as she stretched out lazily, clearly done with the conversation. “I’m hot. You hags wanna go for a swim?”

As Angie and Leanne dragged her over the hot sand to the sea despite her protests, Katie briefly glanced over her shoulder at Marcus. The way his face lit up when he caught her eye made her smile, and at the same time, she finally figured out what had caused the knots in her stomach. Leanne was right about one thing. The next time someone asked Marcus about her, she wanted him to acknowledge what she was to him.

Maybe, she ought to follow her friends’ advice and tell him to poop or something.

***

“Merlin’s bleeding arse, stop blocking my view,” Adrian grumbled, sick of having to look at his friend’s hunched back and too small swimming shorts creeping up his crack instead of the scantily dressed girls around them. He tried to kick Marcus in the back of his knees to make him buckle but merely scraped the skin with his big toe.

“In a minute.” Marcus put his hands on his hips as he watched Lee Jordan and one of the Duplicate Gingers swing Katie back on forth by her arms and legs before they let go of her. 

Her high-pitched shrieks cut through the hot, humid air and stopped as suddenly as they’d started when she disappeared in the water. When she came up again, her hair covered her face like a tight mask, and she was laughing. Well, that’s what Marcus guessed the sound was that she was making, which was a pity. It left him without an excuse to march up there and weasel his way to her side for the rest of the day to keep her out of trouble. 

Although Marcus would say that he wasn’t the jealous kind, absolutely not, the stinging in his stomach disagreed. You see, since Katie was wearing next to nothing (yay!), he should be the one teasing her like that. You know, to test what felt better, her with or without clothes on. Not to mention, he could also be her hero and rescue her from the deepest depths of the Irish Sea in case she forgot how to swim.

A deep sigh from his left interrupted Marcus' fantasies about him swooping in to save Katie from the monstrous waves and her top accidentally coming off while he was at it. Reluctantly, he tore his hawk-like gaze from his girlfriend and looked down. Montague was sitting on his towel with his legs pulled up and chin resting on his knees. He had a wistful look on his face as he stared at the water. In Katie’s direction to be exact. 

“Oi, eyes on the sand,” Marcus snapped as he shuffled little to block Montague’s view, much to Pucey’s relief.

“There's nothing to see there,” Montague said with a sigh as he shifted to see around Marcus’ legs. 

Marcus wished that he remembered how to cast those blinding spells he’d read about a long time ago. He was sure that Higgs knew a few since he was like that, but the tosser had to go and cancel on them last minute.

Warrington scoffed. “He’s probably dreaming about Johnson again. It’s got worse the last few days. He thinks he has a chance with her now. Since you and Bell, you know. Gives a lad false hope and whatnot.”

“Johnson?” Marcus scratched his head as he tried to remember which of the girls with Katie was her. “Isn’t she the one dating-”

“Don’t say it!” Montague cut him off. “She isn’t married, is she? I still have a chance.”

“Sure you do, mate. She’ll remember your name one of these days.” Bletchley patted Montague’s shoulder as he shook his head at the rest of the group, silently telling them to drop it. Once Montague got started about Johnson, it would take a small natural disaster to distract him from her.

Taking the hint, Marcus focussed his attention on Katie again. For a brief moment in time, his heart stopped beating in his chest when he didn’t see her anywhere. He was ready to sprint over there and save her when she emerged from the water coughing and spluttering. She had seaweed in her hair and wrapped around her arms and legs. 

“Bummer,” he muttered under his breath. Another chance to be the hero lost.

“You’ve talked to Bell yet?” Adrian asked as he sneakily summoned the ice-box Katie and her friends had brought along. 

“About what?” Marcus mumbled, not really listening as he was busy keeping an eye on Katie. Out of nowhere, another Boy Weasley had joined the group in the water, the dragon keeper one, and Marcus didn’t like it for one bit how she took her time to study the tattoos on the bloke’s chest whilst he plucked the seaweed from her hair. 

“About yesterday’s article in the Prophet,” Bole offered. 

Cursing his friends’ ability to keep him from the more important things in life, Marcus turned around. It was a miracle that it had taken them this long to say something about it. “We’ve talked about, she understands.”

In fact, he had Floo-called her at her father’s shop immediately after the interview. She’d laughed along with him when he explained. She had even promised to use the Prophet to wrap meat in on Saturday and told him where she’d be on the beach today. She wouldn’t have done that if she’d been angry, would she? 

“I bet she’s still pissed off, and that’s why she hasn’t come to say hi to us. It’s a shame, though; I thought you were introducing her to us.” Adrian gazed into the distance, scrunching his nose. “I want to know what's so special about her.”

“Everything. Just wait, she’ll drop by later. She wants to hang around with her own friends first.” Marcus didn’t understand why Katie had insisted in keeping their friends separate, but he wasn’t about to voice it aloud. Before you knew, they’d brand him a whiny little boy.

“Nah, I don’t think so,” Warrington said as he rummaged in the ice-box. “She’s letting you down easy.”

“What makes you say that?” 

“C’mon, mate; she hasn’t said a word to you the whole day. That’s not what a proper girlfriend does, more like a distant, uh, cousin,” Adrian said as he lunged to keep Bletchley from taking one of the bacon sandwiches. “Are you sure she’s your girl? She seems more interested in Charlie Weasley if you ask me.”

Cue gut-wrenching pain. The knife twisted deeper when he saw how Katie trailed a finger down the dragon tamer’s stomach, and all he could think about was that her hands shouldn’t be that low on another man's body. 

“I didn't ask. Mind your own business.” Miffed at his friends for their insinuations and at Katie for proving them somewhat right, Marcus plopped down next to Montague. He knew that he hadn’t handled Skeeter’s questions as well as he should have, but Katie had said she didn’t mind. Was she going back on her word?

“Don’t listen to them, they’re taking the piss because they’re jealous,” Montague muttered as he passed him a beer. “I know I am.”

Marcus declined the drink. Ruckus would probably skin him alive if he found that he’d been drinking so shortly before the start of the season. “Yeah, you're right, I guess.”

He ducked his head between his knees, mindlessly drawing circles in the warm sand. He should’ve known that the past few weeks had been too good to be true. Maybe his friends were on to something. He only wished that Katie had been honest during their Floo-call on Friday. 

Too caught up with possible theories where he’d gone wrong, Marcus didn’t notice that his friends’ loud chatter abruptly halted. Even then, Montague had to lodge his elbow in his ribs before Marcus looked up. 

Katie stood before him, dripping wet and wrapped in an overlarge towel. Her hair was stuck in wet strands to her scalp and arms, her nose and cheeks sunburnt. She seemed a bit nervous, her eyes darting between him and the lads around him, who in all honesty didn’t look all too welcoming. 

Most of her friends were still in the water, Marcus noticed, the boys and the two not-Johnsons talking to the dragon taming Weasley as they pointed in their direction. Johnson stood far away from them, her hands on her hips and shaking her head. Whatever it was that was going on, it didn’t ease Marcus’ mind for one second. When he turned his gaze back to Katie, who still hadn’t said a word, an uneasy feel started to grow in the pit of his stomach.

“Is everything alright?” 

“Yeah,” Katie squeaked after a few long seconds. Her grip on her towel tightened. “We need to talk.”

***

“You alright?” Marcus quietly asked as he squirmed on the metal bench on the dune overlooking the overcrowded beach. Sweat pricked his eyes and ran in a steady stream down his back. No, that was an understatement. Sweat gushed down his body in buckets, and he expected that by the time they finished talking, there would be nothing left of him but dried up skin. “Katie?”

“Yeah, I - yeah.” She still had her head ducked, nervously wringing her hands. Then, she rounded her cheeks and let out a slow breath. “No, not really.”

Marcus frowned at hearing that, and immediately dozens of reasons crossed his mind. “What’s wrong?”

Katie briefly looked up at him before she ducked her again and started nibbling on the thumb. “I, uh… Do you know Charlie Weasley? He’s a dragon tamer in Romania. Oh, and he has these rad tattoos that move on their-”

“Yes, yes, what about him?” Marcus cut her off, perhaps a bit harsher than he had intended, but he wasn’t about to stand around and listen to her swoon about some bloke. She might as well rip his heart out.

“It’s, ah, it’s a bit awkward.”

“What is?” 

“Dammit, we should’ve brought drinks. I’m thirsty, aren’t you? I’d die for a cold beer. Or ice-cream!” Katie babbled. “Do you want an ice-cone? Let’s get one.”

Marcus gently bumped her shoulder to get her to stop. He was about to die from a sunstroke and liked to have the torturous part over with as soon as possible. “C’mon, love, what’s this all about?” 

Katie looked up again, a small smile on her lips this time. It put his mind at ease, not much, but still a bit.

“Charlie Weasley,” she began again as she used the end of her towel to wipe the sweat from Marcus’ forehead and eyes. When she couldn’t stall any longer, she scooted a little closer and grabbed his hand. “He’s in the country for a few weeks.”

“So?”

Katie fidgeted with the end of her towel as tried to form the words to say. “Uhm, Leanne and twins- they want me to go on a date with him. They said that it’d be fun.”

“Fun for who exactly?” Maybe the weather was finally getting to him, or he was more upset by what she was saying than he wanted to admit. Whatever it was, he couldn’t help but huff and tried to take his hand back. She was having none of it.

“Sit still for a sec,” Katie ordered and entwined her fingers with his to keep him from walking away. Then slowly, she rested her head on his shoulder, trying hard not to grimace when her skin touched his sweat covered one. “They want to set me up with him because Leanne and Angie decided that you and I… You know, _aren’t_.”

“Aren’t what?”

“That we aren’t uhm…” She waved her free hand between their bodies. “That we aren’t dating?”

“Are you asking or telling me?” Marcus counted the number of dates he'd taken her on, and concluded that the final number was twice as much as the years he was old. If those didn’t count as dating, he didn’t know what did.

“Leanne said that because we aren’t _dating_ -dating, I ought to see other people, Charlie in this case. But Angie said I should have the talk with you first.”

If Katie hadn’t been squeezing his hand into a pulp, Marcus would have marched over to not-Johnson to tell her exactly what he thought about her and her suggestions. “What’s dating-dating? And why would they be saying that? Do you want to, with Weasley?”

“No,” Katie answered slowly. “He does have nice tats, though. I think they’d suit you too.”

“I have one.”

Her head snapped up, eyes wide with excitement as she looked him up and down. When she couldn’t find any his chest or legs, she pushed him down to examine his back. Still nothing. “Where? Show me!”

“Later. Answer my questions first.” 

“Fine, be a wet blanket.” Katie let a world-weary sigh and slumped against his shoulder again. “They don’t think you’re my boyfriend because you didn’t tell Skeeter about me. So, in their minds, we’ve only been going on dates, not dating like a proper couple.”

“That’s utter bollocks,” Marcus dismissed her. Witches these days read too much Witch Weekly. His mum and sisters said so each time one of his nieces, mainly Emma, got too cocky. “You’re mine, and I’m yours. I mean, I thought it was a given.”

“I was trying to explain that to them. But you know, after that no-one business with Skeeter…” Katie trailed off, shrugging. 

So, that was the problem.

“I didn’t mean to. She caught me off guard, and I thought you wouldn’t want your name in the papers. You know, linked to me for the whole world to know,” Marcus explained quietly. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close. Even though he was already melting, it seemed the best way to go about it. “You said you didn’t mind.”

“I didn’t, at first.” Katie pressed her cheek against his overly tanned chest, inhaling deeply. He smelt of watered down sunblock potion, hot sand, and a smidgen of sweat. If she’d have had the talent to bottle Marcus Flint, this was how it’d smell. 

“Why the change?” 

“It’s just… I wouldn’t have minded if you’d said that I was your girlfriend. I guess I don’t understand why you’d think that I wouldn’t want to people to know. We are _dating_ -dating, aren’t we?”

“I still have no idea what that means.” 

“Am I your girlfriend or not?” she answered him with exasperation tinging her voice. Truth be told, she hoped he wouldn’t ask further because she had no idea what the difference was between that and regular dating.

“Yes, my girlfriend! Gods, I’ve said that already.”

“You haven’t asked, but fine.”

“Do you want me to ask?” 

It was Katie’s turn to huff, and she would have crossed her arms in defiance if he hadn’t been holding on to her. “No, you’ve ruined the moment.”

Marcus groaned because he knew what she was doing; his mum and sisters did it all the time. So, taking a deep breath, he asked, “Do you want to be my girl? Friend. Girlfriend.”

Katie looked up at him from underneath her lashes, pretending to overthink the suggestion to avoid coming across too eager. “Yes.”

“That means you can’t go on a date with others,” he warned her.

“Fine. Goes for you too.”

“Fine, that's settled then.”

Marcus wiped the sweat from his eyes, hoping Katie would get the hint and help him out with her towel. Thankfully, she did. Grinning, he watched how she undid the large cloth from her body. It grew wider when she rubbed his face and hair dry, her barely-clad breasts jiggling in his face. When she was done, he pulled her down onto his lap before she could take a step back, fully intending on studying the tiny piece of fabric that she had chosen to wear as a bathing suit in further detail. Instead, he ended up soundly kissing her just as he’d wanted to do the whole weekend. 

When they broke apart, he nuzzled the crook of her neck and inhaled her scent. Salty sea, a hint of perfume, and beer on her breath; was there anything better than that. She did that humming thing again, and he decided that one of these days he was going to figure out what it was.

“It’s a bit getting used to,” he mumbled against the thin skin of her throat. “I didn’t mean to say you were a no-one.”

“A random one, according to Skeeter,” Katie corrected him, laughing. “You better get used to it, Flint. The next time around someone asks you who I am you better answer them correctly.”

Marcus murmured something unintelligible to hide his disbelief. He officially had a girlfriend, one who didn’t mind if he referred to her as such. He wanted to say that the day had got exponentially better but when his eye fell on the curve of her chest, and he decided that one other thing could make it even better. His hand already hung in the air when she grabbed his wrist and pushed it down, reminding him that she wasn’t ready for that in public. Pretending it didn’t happen, he kissed her collarbone and asked,

“So, dragon taming Weasley, eh? You seemed interested.”

“No, that was a misunderstanding,” she mumbled as she thought about the failed matchmaking attempt that the twins and Lee had concocted to ‘save her from Flint’ as they’d called it. “I think he only came out today to humour the twins. He told me that he already has a girlfriend when the boys weren’t listening. But he does have terrific tats, though.”

“Good, good,” Marcus mumbled and buried his face in the crook of her neck again, eying the goods he wasn’t allowed to touch. Soon, his mind wandered off to time he’d be allowed and from there, to all the things he’d always dreamt of doing but hadn’t had the chance to do yet. How long was he required to wait?

Preoccupied with all the goodness, he didn’t realise Katie was talking to him until she pinched his nipple. The sting chased away the pleasant daydreams and reminded him of the discomfort he’d been silently bemoaning earlier. He was hot, too hot for comfort, and was sure that the fat on his arse had melted and caked onto the metal bench.

“Wot?”

“Your tattoo, where is it?”

“Oh, that.” Marcus jumped up without answering her, and she would have toppled to the ground if he hadn’t been holding her by her waist. He didn’t waste any time with apologies and pulled her along, back down to the beach. “Come swim with me, and I’ll show you.”

“What d’you mean?” Katie had trouble keeping up with him and dug her heels into the sand to make him go slower. But most of all, she really, really wanted to see where this tattoo of his was before half of wizarding Britain surrounded them again. “I want to see now.”

“Not here.” Marcus stopped, tapping his bum and waggling his brows. “Don’t worry, love, it’s right there waiting for you. Come swim with me, and I let you pull down my shorts so you can see.”

That was all Katie needed to hear, and she all but pushed him down the small path. Not so long ago, she had made a resolution to explore each and every inch of his body for her entertainment. It looked like the time had come to take the first step into realising that plan. Now to figure out when he could do that to her.

But first things first.

“Quit your dawdling and show me the way.”


	13. The first time they want to do more than kissing. But as it is, neither know how to go about it and need outside help. Theoretical help, you pervs. In the end, someone gets engaged to be married.

It was early, too early some would argue, on a Monday morning in September when Bell cottage gradually came to life. Michael had returned to Hogwarts two days earlier to torture his poor students for another year, so he wasn’t there to argue for the sake of arguing. John was still hung over from the Firewhisky festival he had visited with William Flint and not much in the mood for idle chatter. Thankfully, the usual source of that chatter, Katie, was quiet herself.

In the midst of all that silence, Grace sipped her coffee, enjoying the peaceful morning after an eventful summer. Between Katie non-stop swooning about her _boyfriend_ and Michael becoming more insufferable than usual because of said swooning, Grace reckoned that she deserved the peace and quiet.

Now and then, she shook her head ‘no’ when John eyed her like a sick puppy. She was sure that he felt miserable, he looked and smelt the part, but she’d be damned to do him a favour and open the shop for him because he drank his weight in whisky. Monday mornings were for him to handle and unless he was burning up with fever or dying, she wasn’t going to give in and pick up his slack. Not even when he was pouting as he was now, his bottom lip stuck out so far that it touched the underside of his chin.

“You ought to be going,” Grace clipped as she poured herself another coffee, “The delivery man will be there any minute. His cooling charms are pants, don't forget. The meat will be ruined if you leave it out in the open for too long.”

It wasn’t received well. Huffing and grumbling about the callous and heartless harpy he had married, John shuffled around in the kitchen, rummaging through the cabinets until he couldn’t stall any longer and left for work. As soon as the door slammed shut behind him, Grace turned her attention to her daughter, not trusting the lack of interaction from that end of the table.

Katie sat hunched in her chair, pulling her bread into crumbs. She looked as if she hadn’t slept a wink last night, the dark circles underneath her puffy eyes stood out in her otherwise too pale face. If someone had asked Grace to guess which of the two was genuinely ill, John or Katie, she’d pick the latter.

“Are you alright, love?” When no answer came, Grace pressed further. “You aren’t sick, are you? Do you want me to call work and tell them you’re feeling a bit under the weather and need to stay home?”

“No, I’m fine, Mum,” mumbled Katie as she ducked her head further. “Didn’t sleep too well, s’all.”

“How come?”

“I dunno.”

Pulling teeth was easier. Silently, Grace recounted what Katie had done yesterday, and came up with nothing. All she knew was that Katie had spent the whole day and evening with Marcus at his flat.

Oh. _Oooh._

“Did something happen with Marcus?” The last time Katie had been this quiet-ish was a few weeks ago, right after that ridiculous article Rita Skeeter had written -talk about someone falling from her pedestal. But even then, it hadn’t lasted more than a few minutes.

Katie snapped her eyes up at the question and then quickly averted them again. “No, nothing.”

It wasn’t the kind of answer that eased Grace's mind. Fear and anger settled in the pit of her stomach. That big oaf hadn’t done anything to her, had he? Bleeding hell, to think that she had changed his nappies. She took deep calming breaths to control her emotions, and when she was sure that she wouldn’t sound too accusing, she kindly but urgently asked again, “Did something happen yesterday?”

Katie shook her head without looking up. Instead, she grabbed another slice of bread and began plucking it like a Christmas goose. For a fleeting second, she looked as if she wanted to say something but decided against it. That wouldn’t do for Grace, of course.

“Katie, look at me,” she ordered sternly. Seeing tears brim in Katie’s eyes took her aback. She hurried to her side and wrapped her arms around her in consolation. “What happened? Talk to me, love, you’re scaring me.”

“Nothing, Mum,” Katie said sniffling as her mother hugged the living daylights out of her. Wrestling her mother’s freakishly strong hold, she puffed, “Nothing happened; that’s the problem. And nothing ever will probably.”

“Why? Did you two break up?” At the indignant ‘no!’ Grace dropped her arms and plopped down in John’s chair, surveying her daughter for a long time. She couldn’t think of anything else that would warrant a sleepless night, and she gave up. “So, nothing happening is a terrible thing these days, I assume?”

“Yes.” More sniffles followed and another slice of bread gave up its existence to Katie’s restless fingers.

“So,” Grace said slowly, already knowing that she was going to regret asking. “What didn’t happen that you wanted to happen?”

Katie opened and closed her mouth a few times, eyeing her mother from underneath her lashes. Seeing her nod in encouragement, she took a deep breath and voiced her sleep-depriving problem. “I want him to touch me, yeah?”

“No, uh, yes? I mean, go on.”

“It’s just…” Katie’s shoulders sagged when the words refused to come out, and she held her hands up in hopes her mother would understand.

“Just what, love?” Grace glanced at the clock. Damnit, another ten minutes before Katie had to leave for work. “Doesn’t he want to? Too much of a gentleman? That’s okay, you know. You’ve only been dating for a short while.”

Maybe Michael had managed to scare Marcus somehow. After all, he had left with promises -or threats, depending on who you asked- to come home every weekend to keep an eye on his little sister and ‘prevent Flint from corrupting to her’, as he had put it. Silly boy.

“He does! Very much!” Katie cried out as she buried her face in her hands in embarrassment. The darkness seemed to do wonders for her verbal expression and the words poured out before she could stop them. “And I want him to touch me, uhm, at places. But every time he tries, I get nervous and tell him he can’t. He thinks that I’ve been on my monthly the past few weeks.”

“Well, yes, that’s unfortunate.” Grace wondered if it was too early for that bottle of Ogden’s Special John had brought back. Maybe, she and John shouldn’t have insisted on having an open relationship with their children. She could have grown ancient without needing to know about her daughter’s needs. “If you’re nervous, it could mean that you aren’t ready for more-”

“I am!” Katie cut her off, “So, so ready I’m gonna burst if nothing happens soon. I just don’t know how to go about it.”

“Go about what?” Grace grimaced; she shouldn’t have asked that.

Katie looked around as if she expected someone to jump out of the cupboards before she leant in closer and whispered, “With _it_. It pokes me each time we kiss longer than a minute. If I let Marcus touch me, I want to touch him back, you know, but I don’t know how.”

Grace gulped slowly, already having an idea about what’d be next. Shouldn’t Katie have learnt this at Hogwarts? How could she have spent seven years at a boarding school and not know what to do? They’d paid an arm and a leg to send their kids there, and this is what they got in return? Her time at Hogwarts had been entirely different, that’s for sure.

“How did you- Uhm, with Dad. How did you know what to do?”

There it was. Grace sniggered nervously, unsure what to answer. Some illusions were meant to be kept intact for the children’s sake. You know, like them not knowing that their parents had separate, active lives before getting together.

“Yes, well, that’s a funny story.” She could hardly tell her daughter that she had been quite experienced -it was the late sixties, early seventies after all- before she and John started dating seriously, could she? Maybe she ought to tell about her first boyfriend and all the good and icky things they’d figured out together.

Thankfully, before Grace was forced to walk down memory lane and open the can of festering worms that was Rabastan Lestrange, Sally Flint’s shrill voice and loud banging on the kitchen door announced her arrival for their Monday morning, post weekend-gossip catch-up session.

Katie jumped up with eyes as wide as saucers and rushed to the fireplace. Before she hopped in, she turned around to say goodbye, accidently tossing the Floo-powder over mother instead of the fireplace. “I have to go. Uh, work. Not a word to _her_. Please, Mum, for once.”

Grace never made promises she couldn’t keep, and as Sally barged in while emerald flames swallowed Katie whole, she dropped her head on the table, not sure if she ought to laugh or cry. No matter which way you turned it, Katie would want to continue the discussion when she got home.

“What happened here?” Sally asked as she looked around the kitchen. A chair had been knocked over, there was Floo-powder all over the table, and judging by the way Grace was lamenting her life, it was clear that she had received bad news.

Grace held up a finger in a silent request to give her a minute to collect her thoughts. She got up to rummage in one of the cabinets and pulled out a dusty bottle of cordial. Pointing at Sally to take a seat, she topped two mugs to the rim before she took a seat herself.

“Is it that bad?”

“She wants to do more than snogging with your son.”

“Aww, she told you that? How sweet.” Sally frowned at seeing her neighbour less than impressed at that little titbit of information. “So, what’s the problem? I guess there is one if she brought it up.”

“Yep,” Grace answered with a sigh and took a big gulp from her drink. “She doesn’t know what to do.”

Sally bit the inside of her cheek to keep herself from bursting out in mean cackles. When she was sure that she could give advice with a straight face, she said, “Tell her to just do it; she’ll figure it out as she goes. He won’t break, too much.”

“Can you at least pretend to feel sorry for me?” Grace complained.

“Why should I feel sorry?” Sally asked with a shrug. “You’re her mum; you’re supposed to help her out and answer awkward questions. I did with my girls. Besides, who better than you to explain how things are done. I mean, if someone’s got the most _hands-on_ experience with these kinds of things, it’s you.”

“Oh shut up. How long have you been waiting to say that?”

“Ever since you told me you were having a girl.”

“Sodding tart,” Grace grumbled under her breath. When she finally tore her eyes off her now empty mug, she noticed the serene smile Sally had plastered on as she gazed into the distance. “What’s with the face?”

Sally blinked a few times as her grin grew wider. “How long do you reckon they’ll make us wait for grandbabies? It’s getting quiet around here now that my girls stopped having them. Aren’t you curious to know who’ll they look like?”

Grace groaned as she dropped her head back on the table with a bang. Atop of discussing the original problem, it looked like she was going to need to have a refresher contraceptive talk as well.

She was just too young to become someone’s grandma.

***

 

As Sally helped prepare Grace for the inevitable talk with her daughter, and Katie drowned herself in her work to distract herself and tried to figure out what the hell it was Mr Crouch had scribbled down before she could spread the memo, Marcus had a similar problem as her to discuss with someone.

Having a day off from training, he had a later start to his day than his girlfriend and the rest of his family and friends. It was near noon when he finally rolled out bed after a whole night and morning of tossing and turning around. Each time he had dared to close his eyes, his mind had wandered off to the day before and how Katie had recoiled each time he had tried to get under her skirt or tugged at her shirt. He had a vague idea about what to do once he got under her clothes as it was, but it’d be nice to get there first so he could figure it out for sure.

No matter which you way turned it, it was quite clear that one of two possibilities was a reason for her reluctance. One, contrary to what she had said before, she didn’t like him touching her at all and was on the verge of dumping him. That would also explain the unusually long monthly she was lying about. Or, second and probably the most plausible -he hoped- she had noticed his inexperience and didn’t want him to continue until he got a clue about what he was doing.

It went against his principles to do so, but he wasn’t sure how long he’d last like this. His palms hadn’t stopped itching since he'd held her for the first time and the pain in his bollocks was becoming unbearable. Nothing he’d come up with had helped to ease the pressure, and wanking could do so much. So, before he neutered himself and lost Katie, he needed help. There was only one person he trusted enough to help him with his problem. He had heard the stories about him being quite the ladies’ man in the day, so the man ough to have some insider tips for him.

His father.

Desperate to have a solution handy (he he) before he saw Katie tomorrow -she’d promised to cook him dinner at his flat- he took the long broom ride back to Tinworth. To his father’s shop to be precise. The closer he came, the more his nerves played up and by the time he landed in the small courtyard at the back of the shop, his throat had turned into sandpaper whilst sweat poured down his back in buckets. He couldn’t remember the last time he had willingly asked his father for help or advice since the old geezer usually offered whether it was wanted or not.

Thankfully, the shop itself was deserted this afternoon as Marcus walked in, easing his nerves a bit. In fact, the usual sounds of chisel on marble were absent as well. Had the old codger closed shop for the day? If so, that’d mean that he would have to go home to talk to him there. His mum would be there eavesdropping, which would most probably lead to a lecture about girls’ precious virtues and how not to deal with them, and that would ruin his day even further.

“Dad?” he called out and perked his ears when there was no immediate answer. It was faint, but he heard it: his father’s snoring.

Sighing in annoyance, Marcus marched to the small office to wake him. Here he was, dealing with problems with a potential to ruin his life for good whilst his father hadn’t bothered to wake up from his afternoon nap.

Sure enough, William lay curled up behind his wobbly desk on the thick rug he had got for his birthday last year. From this close, his snores were louder, and the thick stench of stomach-churning booze farts hung in the air.

“For fuck’s sake, old man, wake up!” Marcus bellowed as he clapped his hands by his father’s ears. “Mum’s on her way.”

As expected, that last part had more effect than the first. Will snapped his eyes open and was on his legs within seconds. Wide-eyed and wiping the drool of his chin, he looked around expecting to see his wife. When he concluded that she wasn’t there, he relaxed a bit until he noticed his son, smirking at him.

“What d’you want?” Will grunted as he slumped down in his beaten chair. “Where’s your mum?”

“How am I supposed to know? She’s your wife. Put a Tracker Charm on her if you’re so curious.” Marcus took his father’s example and took a seat opposite him. “We need to talk.”

“About what?” Will rubbed his eyes to rid of the sleep. When Marcus didn’t reply fast enough, he asked again, less kind than before. “Speak up, boy. I’ve work to finish.”

“Sure you do. Is that what you call it these days?” Marcus flashed him a broad smile that usually worked wonders with his mother. With his father, not so much. “We need to talk... _Daddy_.”

“Don’t ‘daddy’ me. Spill it already; I’m a busy man.”

Marcus fidgeted with the hem of his robe, not sure where to begin. Some small talk to help him ease into the subject would have been nice. “I need help with a problem.”

“What problem?” Will crossed his arms over his chest, staring Marcus down to get him to talk and get this over with so he could go back to his nap.

“Uh, you know, a Katie problem?”

“What about her?” A sudden thought popped up, and Will let out a world-weary sigh. He didn’t think he’d live to see the day. “Oh for the love of… Please, please tell me you didn’t get her up the duff already. I love you, son, I really do, but if John finds out- No wait, Micky will come after you-”

“I haven’t,” Marcus cut him off, rolling his eyes at the insinuation that he wouldn't be able to handle Boy Bell. “I’d have to get into her knickers for that, wouldn’t I? That’s the problem.”

“What d’you mean?”

Again, Marcus was lost for words. As he scratched his brow, he went over several ways to explain his problem. In the end, the simplest way seemed to be the best. He was just too tired and desperate to come up with something clever. “I don’t know what to do, and I think it’s showing.”

“You don’t know what exactly? I’ve explained how it works years ago.” Will felt dirty for saying it -he had seen the girl grow up for Merlin’s sake, but it had to be done. So, Will quietly asked, “You forgot where to stick it or what?”

“No!” The images of the props that his father had used that summer before his Fourth Year for a more practical birds-and-the-bees-talk were etched iinto his brain. How could he forget? “It’s just that, uh, that was all theory. You didn’t tell _how_ to get there. How do I get _her_ to want to me there? What am I supposed to do before the sticking it in part? Am I making any sense?”

The look of confusion on Will’s face slowly morphed into one of glee, and he had to bite his tongue not to laugh at his son. The boy looked uncomfortable and serious to learn at the same time, which was new and something to get used to. It was flattering that Marcus had chosen him, voluntarily to boot, to ask advice. It felt as if they’d finally reached that ultimate father-son bond John and Michael Bell had. Smiling in pride, Will opened one of the drawers in his desk and pulled out a dusty bottle. This memorable occasion needed a celebration.

Marcus scowled. “I can’t drink. I have a match on Saturday.”

“It’s not for you; it’s for me.” Will poured himself a glass. “So, you want to know what to do?”

“Yes, please.”

Will nodded as he took a sip. As the whisky slid down his throat, a plan on how to go about it formed. To make sure that Marcus would listen to everything he had to say, he pointed his wand at him from underneath the table and pinned his feet to the floor and arms to the chair.

“Hey, what’s going on?” Marcus asked in outrage when he noticed his inability to move. He twisted and turned in his chair to no avail. “Dad!”

“Quit squirming, you’re gonna hurt yourself. I’ll let you go when I’m done. This the only way, son.” Will winked at him as he drank another shot. “So, have I ever told you about when I first started dating your mum?”

“Oh Gods, no. It’s okay, Dad, I’ve changed my mind-”

“Frigid like an icicle she was, wouldn’t let me touch her with a ten-foot stick, let alone _my_ ten-foot stick.”

As Will proceeded to tell the fantastic story of how he'd finally convinced Sally Rookwood to drop her knickers for him in the greenhouses after months of dating, Marcus began to regret his life choices that had led him here today. But as his father droned on and on, he managed to erase his parents from the story and replace them with the stick figures he used to draw when he was younger. By the time his father released him from his bounds and send him on his merry way, he begrudgingly had to admit that he’d picked up few useful things here and there.

All he had to do was to try them out.

And find a way to look his mother in the eye again after today.

***

By the time Tuesday evening rolled around, heavy rainfall had chased away the last remnants of the summer and heralded the early start of autumn. As the seasons slowly changed that day, something else changed as well.

For starters, the bright red blush on Katie’s cheeks she had gone to bed and woken up with had almost faded by the time she sat down at the dinner table. The night before, when she got home from work, her mother had ambushed her and spent most of the evening going over all the things that could be done with a boy’s bits using her own experiences as examples. Although that had been embarrassing, and shocking to realise that her mum hadn’t been talking about her dad, it had turned out quite enlightening. Katie knew what to do now and planned on putting her newly acquired knowledge to good use.

The only thing stopping her now was her inhibition to take the first step. What if he had already got tired of her telling him he could touch her and then going back on it, and found himself another girl in the meantime?

Whilst Katie wracked her brain, Marcus wasn't faring any better. He hadn’t slept a wink for the second night in a row, and it had shown during practice today. He had fallen off his broom more times than a newborn on a toy broom and took so many Bludgers to various parts of his body one would have thought that he hadn’t played Quidditch before. That blundering had put him on Ruckus’ shit-list, and when he had failed to explain the reason behind his less than stellar performance, the man had demanded booze and forbidden potions testing. But he'd take that any day over explaining that the talk he had with his father had distracted him to the point that he couldn’t think straight.

He really, really, really wanted to do all those things his dad said he should try to get somewhere with Katie.

Nevertheless, as the moment to do so had arrived and they sat opposite of each other, he forgot how to take the first step. And just like that, the pressure he’d put on himself reached a new high.

“Is something wrong with the cod?” Katie quietly asked as she pointed her fork at his half-empty plate.

Marcus looked down at his food, surprised to see that he’d forgotten to eat. It was a shame too since he loved fish and chips.

“I'm full,” he mumbled as he prodded the cold cod that she had cooked specially for him. A smooth line about how he could go for a Katie-sized snack popped up, but the moment to say it aloud passed as fast as it had come up.

“Yeah, me too.” Katie studied her own plate. Like the bread the day before, she had plucked the fish into pulp and mashed her chips into an unrecognisable heap of starch. “So, desserts then? Mum made chocolate mousse for us.”

Again, Marcus came up with a smooth line, wanting to say that he preferred to have her as desert. Unfortunately, only an undefined guttural sound came out when he opened his mouth. It did sound like a yes, though, and she must have understood what he was trying to say by the looks of it. She had a bright smile on her face as she stood up and collected their plates.

“Why don’t you turn on the wireless and get comfy on the sofa. I’ll bring out the mousse in a sec, yeah?”

Katie hurried to the kitchen without waiting for an answer or a glance back. An opportunity to show Marcus what she wanted had presented itself, and she’d be damned not to take advantage of it. As she dumped the dirty plates in the sink and went on to prepare the desserts as her mum had shown her, she recited a few pointers she had picked up last night.

“Kiss the throat and chest, bite the lobe, and trail your nails up and down his back. Brush over the bulge to test the waters. If he’s agreeable, go on. Watch out with zippers. No pulling or pinching the delicate skin.”

When the mousse was presentable enough, Katie took a deep breath, unbuttoned the first three buttons of her blouse, pulled her skirt halfway up her thighs, and squared her shoulders to muster enough self-confidence to join Marcus again. She wouldn’t tell him 'no' tonight and hopefully, he wouldn’t either when she made the first move if he took too long.

Marcus lay sprawled on the sofa when she returned with the desserts, bopping his head to the new Hexing Hags song as he flipped through an old Quidditch International. As soon as he saw her, he sat up, patting the lumpy spot next to him.

“Looks good, love,” he said as he licked his lips, eyeing her in hunger.

Katie giggled shyly until she realised that he had meant the chocolate mousse in her hands. And just like that, she wasn’t all that sure again. He probably had enough of her already if he preferred to eyeball a dessert than her. And to think that she’d put a skirt on for him despite the awful weather.

At the same time, Marcus wasn’t sure what he’d done wrong when her face fell. His confusion turned into a complete loss when she joined him on the sofa, as stiff as a rod and with too much space between them. Hadn’t it been her idea to eat here? How was he supposed to hold her now and make his move when she sat all the way over there? He didn’t dare ask and for a long while the only sounds in the room were the soft music on the Wireless and the scraping of their spoons against glass.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Marcus blurted out when he put his empty cup on the old crate. As slyly as he could, he scooted closer to her when he flopped back on the sofa.

Katie shrugged, pouting. “You aren’t the life of the party either. You didn’t even kiss me when I got here.”

“I didn’t?” He couldn’t believe that he would have forgotten to do that. Wait a minute… “If I didn’t, then you didn’t either.”

“I was too busy frying fish for you.” ‘And too busy with not burning the flat’ she wanted to add since it was the first time she had cooked a real meal over an open fire without parental supervision. Maybe, though, it was for the best not to mention that. “Instead of kissing me, you’ve leered at my arse the whole time I was slaving over the stove.”

“I guess. I do love your arse, though.” Remembering one of his father’s instructions, he put his arm around her shoulders to test the waters. She relaxed under his touch, and as he studied her from the corner of his eyes, he noticed that her sour pout turned into a small smile. Feeling a bit more secure, he pulled her close to his chest and whispered in her ear, “I can make it up to you if you want?”

It took him off guard for a second when Katie looked up glaring and grabbed his jaw.

“Why are you asking that for? Do it already; I’m dying of neglect here.”

She didn’t need to tell him twice, and as he dipped his head and pressed his lips to hers, going back and forth until she let him in, the tension he had felt the whole day quickly ebbed away. He loved to feel her weight in his arms and against him, he loved how her scent had a way of invading his senses to the point of dizzying him, and most of all, he loved hearing that soft humming sound she made whenever they ended up like this. And as she laid her hand on his cheek, deepening the kiss to the point he feared she was trying to eat him up, he realised he could wait for doing more until she said she was ready.

That why he didn’t think too much of it when they broke apart and she pushed him on his back while grinning like mad. Nor did he get his hopes up when she straddled his lap because she didn’t say a thing and to be fair, they had been in the same position before without any progress. Eventually, he caught up with what she was doing when she began unfastening her blouse, unveiling more and more of a simple black bra.

“Hoh,” Marcus muttered hoarsely when the last of the buttons came undone and revealed what Katie had hidden underneath that granny shirt most Ministry employees seemed to wear. He’d seen her in her bathing suit. Hell, he even had a photograph of her wearing that skimpy thing for the lonely nights. But this… This was different. Different and see-through he noticed when his brain rebooted itself, with two bullets pointing at him.

“You want to hold them?” Katie offered when he kept staring at her. According to her mum, he was supposed to be all over her by now. Why wasn’t he?

“I can? I mean, are you sure?”

“Yes.” Short and sweet, the only answer that counted but nothing happened. His hands remained on his stomach, and Katie was sure that Marcus hadn’t blinked for the past few seconds. To give him a push in the right direction, she grabbed his wrists and planted his hands on her chest. A tingling sensation shot down to her lower belly when he brushed his thumbs over her erect nipples. He still had that dumbfounded look on his face, though, and when she quickly glanced down at his lap, nothing had changed yet. That wasn’t good. “Don’t you like?”

"Shhh," Marcus shushed her. He was too busy processing that he was holding barely covered tits for the first time in his life to give a proper answer. Katie's tits to be exact. They were bigger and bouncier from this close. He cupped his hands and gave them a slight squeeze, and as he’d expected, they were firm and soft at the same time. He brushed his thumbs over her nipples again. That made Katie wriggle, and the more he repeated that, the more her wriggling intensified.

He finally awoke from his stupor when she leant over his chest, her hands on either side of his face and her hair tickling his nose. He had breasts in his face whilst she was moaning in his ear. Wriggling and moaning, and he was doing that to her!

“Is this okay?” he asked as he shifted a little underneath her to ease the restraint in his trousers. That must have been the right move because she crashed her mouth onto his in reaction; kissing, licking, nibbling his lips with a vigour he hadn’t seen from her before.

Marcus tried hard not to get carried away as his father had warned him he probably would. But as Katie rubbed herself up and down his crotch combined with the sensation of her breast pressed against his chest, his earlier intention to take it slow was forgotten.

Fire built up in his belly, his hands tentatively wandering to her bum, fully expecting her to come to her senses and race home as she’d done the last few times. That didn’t happen.

Encouraged, he scrunched up her skirt and traced the outlines of her knickers. He wasn’t sure what he was thinking, or even if he was thinking at all when he grasped her hips and pushed her down on his painfully hard cock. Her breath felt hot on his skin when she buried her face in the crook of his neck, moaning and grinding harder. He knew that he had to warn her to take it easy, that it’d be over too soon if she kept on going like this.

But the ability to form a coherent string of words was lost when she reached between them, wrapping her hands around his still covered cock and gave it a light jerk. That was all it took. Tremors shot from his underbelly all through his body, stiffening him. A loud groan in ecstasy escaped him as he pushed her hips down for one last time and buried his face in her chest as his orgasm washed over him and filled his underpants.

They lay like that for a long time, panting and both wearing a silly grin the other couldn’t see.

“I’m sorry,” Marcus said eventually and kissed the top of her hair. He had his hands still on her hips, and he wondered if it’d be too forward if he took a peek to see what colour her knickers were. You know, to give his fantasies more substance for when he replayed this evening while he lay alone in bed at night.

“For what?” Katie mumbled between nibbling at the sensitive skin of his throat. That was going to leave a mark for sure.

“Over too soon,” he answered a bit embarrassed. “You didn’t… I did… Stuff.”

“What do you mean over?” Katie raised herself up, trying to keep a straight face when she noticed the wet patch on his crotch. She had done that to him. Granted, it didn’t take much, but still. “Marcus, what stuff?”

The rubbing had pushed the cups her bra down, exposing more than before and again, Marcus forgot what they were talking about. He was in the midst of imagining her naked tits jiggling in his face, slapping his cheeks, when Katie flicked his nose.

“What do you mean it’s over?” she asked again when she regained his attention.

Not sure where his voice went off to, Marcus vaguely waved between them.

“You mean it only works once a day?” That would be a blatant lie. Although she didn’t know all the murky details about the male anatomy, she knew some things, thank you very much. It was a good thing for him that he shook his head no. “What’s the problem then? I don’t have to be home until eleven.”

“You want to do more?”

“You don’t?” That would be unfair after all the trouble and embarrassment Katie had gone through to get here. She was just getting started.

“I didn’t say that.” Marcus pulled her back onto his chest, smiling when she briefly nuzzled the crook of his neck before she started nibbling and humming again. He ought to go and clean up, put on a fresh pair of trousers, but the idea of interrupting the moment didn’t feel good. “So, uh, what do you want to do next then?”

It took her few minutes to think it over. There were so many things on her to-do list that she wanted to check off. She wanted to see him naked from all angles, touch him all over while he was naked, and feel his hands on her. She wanted him to make her feel as good as he had felt just now. Where to begin?

Just as she was about to suggest that he stripped naked for her, a loud voice boomed through the flat. Both Katie and Marcus jumped up in a startle, which ended with Marcus kicking over the old crate that functioned as a table whilst Katie landed on her bum with a loud thud next to the empty mousse cups.

“Oi, Flint! Where are you?” Terence Higgs called out again as he barged down the corridor on the other side of the living room door. “Come out, come out wherever you are. I’ve something to tell you.”

 “You didn’t block the Floo?” Katie hissed as she scrambled up and tried to sort herself out. Where was her wand to help with the buttons when you needed it?

“I forgot!” Marcus pulled her behind him in a reflex when the door to the living slammed open. It was one thing to ogle Katie himself; he’d be damned to let his friends see her half-naked.

To his surprise, Terence wasn’t alone when he barged in. In fact, he was holding on tightly to someone. That someone was a tall, dark-haired girl, who was craning her neck to see what Marcus was hiding behind his back. Why would he bring Former Horse-Face-Spinnet here?

“Well, well, well, what do we have here?” Higgs drawled, wagging his brows. “Looks like you had a little accident there, mate. You got too excited, huh?”

“Leave him alone.” Spinnet weakly hit his arm, giggling. “You have those accidents all the time.”

“Not here, love,” Higgs retorted as he eyed Flint in hopes he hadn’t heard, which he had of course. Knowing the bastard, he’d stored that as ammunition to use at the most unexpected, improper time.

“Ally?” Katie peeked around Marcus as she straightened herself out. Seeing her friend with Higgs, she frowned. Hadn’t Alicia written him off as a one-time, cherry-popping thing ages ago? “What are you doing here?”

The grin on Alicia’s face grew to face-splitting proportions, and she would have clapped in excitement if Terence hadn’t held on to her so tightly. “I- _We_ have something to tell you.”

“That’s nice,” Marcus quickly intervened, feeling more and more uncomfortable in his trousers. “Can you give us a minute? Or come back tomorrow, next week? We, uh, need to-”

He didn’t get a chance to finish what he was saying when a squealing Spinnet finally burst and held out her arm to Katie, showing off something too big and too glittery on her hand, on her finger to be precise. “We’re getting married!”

Just like that, the highly arousing evening ended far too early after all. Marcus didn’t get a second round of frolicking, and as the girls' high-pitched shrieks turned into talks about dresses and flower arrangements, he was fairly sure that Katie had forgotten that they’d been in the middle of something very important before the interruption.

As he slouched down on the sofa with a cold pint Higgs had shoved in his hands, and unwillingly listening to wedding discussions he’d been tortured with four times in his younger years, Marcus made a decision. First thing tomorrow, he was taking his flat off the Floo-connection. That damned thing ruined everything.


	14. The first time Marcus wasn’t jealous, Part 1. Ruined birthday plans and throwing bottles. Happy birthday, Katie!

He was not jealous.

Jealousy was nothing but a childish and weak emotion in reaction to something he had no control over.

He wasn’t childish or weak.

Nor was he jealous.

No.

Okay, maybe a little.

Fine, he was a bit more than a little jealous.

Or, maybe he had to admit that he was so violently jealous that he wanted to rip someone into ribbons, glue them back together, and rip them apart all over again so that he could feed them to whatever Hagrid was breeding at Hogwarts these days.

Yeah, maybe he was a tad jealous.

But that didn’t mean he was childish or weak. That only applied to other wizards who weren’t him.

Other than the occasional slip up now and then whenever he got carried away by something or the other, he had perfect control over his emotions since his late teens, thank you very much.

It was just a pity that Katie wasn’t here to see how much in control he was whilst throwing empty beer bottles at the wall.

That was better than shredding someone into pieces, after all.

Right?

 

***

**_Earlier that night_ **

The Viper’s Nest hadn’t changed much since Marcus’ last visit months before. And just like then, he didn’t like it one bit. The music was still too loud, the watered down lukewarm drinks too expensive, the temperature too hot, and most of the patrons were too busy pretending that none of the aforementioned bothered them in the slightest. Barely dressed witches with too much face paint swayed their hips to the catchy tunes The Hexing Hags played on stage whilst the terrifically coiffed and dressed wizards swallowed their tears as they dropped a greater part of wages on a round of drinks. In hindsight, they should have known that seeing such an upcoming band like that for ‘free’ always came at a cost. But most of them didn’t let something petty as overpriced drinks spoil their fun night out.

And what fun it was.   

It was such a fun night out for everyone.

Fun, fun, fun.

Unless your name was Marcus Flint, that is.

He’d been in a surly mood the whole day on this particular Saturday in November and even his girlfriend’s nineteenth birthday couldn’t put a small smile on his face. Well, to her face he faked it, of course. He wasn’t a complete tool. But other than that, he had spent most of the day and evening making others as miserable as he was. To his great annoyance, though, no one cared enough to pay him heed and ask what had crawled up his arse and died.

Not even Katie, who was currently showing off her newest moves on the dancefloor, flailing arms and all. Where he usually would have smiled fondly at seeing her dance and shake her bum off, tonight it just irked him to no end. Of course, it wasn’t her dancing. He liked that very much, actually. It had an allure to it, beckoning him down to the dancefloor to piss on her leg and mark her as his. It took all his self-control not to do that; he was pretty sure that she wouldn’t appreciate the gesture.

So, again, no, it wasn’t the dancing, all the way down there without him, that had the ability to set him off like a Blast-Ended Skrewt. Nor was it the gawking arseholes around her -who were most probably undressing her in their minds- that had caused Marcus’ less than likeable self to emerge from its slumber. Although he wouldn’t mind gauging some eyes out tonight just for the fun of it, those blokes didn’t chagrin him; they merely amplified his feelings. If anyone had to guess, they’d think that his first loss with the Tornadoes the day before was the culprit. And surprisingly enough, they’d be wrong.

Losing the match against the Magpies had been an unpleasant surprise, true, but he had expected to happen rather sooner than later. Besides, he’d get his revenge on the pathetic excuses for a professional Quidditch team later on in the season. Sometimes you needed to make your enemies think that you were weak so that when the time came to crush their skulls in they wouldn’t see it coming. It was a perfect strategy in its simplicity. Losing the match wasn’t what had him on the edge.

 

A second guess would be the fact that Ruckus was breathing down his neck day and night, working him to the extreme whilst his other teammates were spared the Spartan treatment. Again, they’d be wrong. He didn’t mind the torturous one-on-one training sessions. If anything, the three nights a week additional training on top of the regular ones had improved his skill, lessened the potbelly that had popped out thanks to Katie’s twice a week fish and chip meals, and even taught him a thing or two. So, no, that wasn’t it either.

A third guess? No?

Fine.

He might have lied.

Not much, just the tiniest bit.

The truth was that despite his careful planning, the whole day and night hadn’t gone as Marcus had hoped. And that was what got him on the edge. But it wasn’t the most acceptable excuse in the world to say that the birthday girl herself had caused the knots in his knickers, was it?

***

**_Much earlier that day_ **

Today was a special day for Marcus, and not in the first place because it was his girl’s nineteenth-birthday. That was grand as well, don’t get him wrong. If anything, it gave him the very first opportunity to spoil Katie rotten without worrying that she might not accept his gifts. But what made today extra special was that he was here, sitting at the Bell’s kitchen table, waiting to have his very first meal -well, breakfast- with them. As the _boyfriend_.

Sure, he’d eaten countless meals with the Bells before. But until today, he’d been merely their neighbours’ son who would tag along with his parents. But today, he was the _boyfriend_.

His own parents had insisted that his sisters were dating at least a year before they’d allowed them to bring their boyfriends along, officially speaking. The numerous times his father had caught one of his now brothers-in-law in his sisters’ rooms in the middle of the night didn’t count, of course.

For Marcus it was different. Since he had his own flat, his parents’ rules didn’t apply to him anymore. However, the Bells didn’t have such a drag of a rule. So, here he was, dating Katie a little short of five months and he was already about to have an official meal with her and her parents. As the _boyfriend_. He couldn’t wait to impress Grace and John with his plans for the day and the most importantly, the present he had bought for Katie. If they liked him now, which he was sure of, they’d love him after they saw the gift.

First, Katie needed to come down, though. Marcus heard her rummage and giggle with her mum upstairs, and judging by the time it took them to get ready, he assumed Katie was going to look spectacular. A big grin slowly spread across his face as he imagined how she’d unwrap her present and read the card he’d spent the better half of a week composing.

Sure, there were more words there than necessary to congratulate her, and he might have stolen a few lines from several Celestina Warbeck songs, but that was beside the point. He was in desperate need for an answer to a question he had wanted to ask for a while now, and this had been the only way he’d been able to word it without making a fool of himself.

In his mind, she’d say yes, he’d immediately whisk her away and wouldn’t return her until the next evening. He had plans for her.

“Loads and loads,” he said chuckling, proud of his dirty mind already working overtime so early in the morning. Even the fact that John Bell sat opposite him with his face buried in his hands as he muttered something under his breath, couldn’t stop it.

Back to Marcus' 'loads' worth of plans.

Lizzy, the sanest and most trustworthy of his sisters, had helped Marcus last night to prepare his flat. She had shown him how to change his sheets and spent a scandalous amount of his monies on scented candles and flowers. Phial after phial of special bath oils to ease the soreness for Katie after (Lizzy had mere rolled her eyes at his puzzled expression) stood displayed by the bathtub with instructions on how to use them. She had even arranged for the most sickening sweet love songs on the record player to set the mood with a mere flick of his wand.

Then there were his bathroom and bedside cupboards she had stocked with a freshly brewed batch of contraceptive potion. Lizzy had even taught Marcus a few newer contraceptive charms in addition to the ancient ones his father had made him learn by heart the summer before his fourth year. Lizzy had made him vow to use them, stating that she had her fill of babies for a few years to come and Marcus had readily agreed with that sentiment.

But first, Katie had to come down so they could move on to using them.

“Fancy a cup of tea, Flint?”

The voice efficiently ruined his daydreams of slowly undressing Katie, kissing and licking each inch of exposed skin until she squirmed in his arms and commanded him to take advantage of her.

“Flint?”

Looking over his shoulder, Marcus saw Boy Bell by the sink, holding up a steaming mug. Right, somehow, he was here instead of torturing students at Hogwarts. Not sure about what to do, Marcus quickly glanced at John, who shook his head at him in silent answer.

“I’m good, thanks.” Marcus sneaked his hand in his pocket, making sure the bezoar his mum had given him when he told her he’d be having breakfast with the Bells was still there. You know, in case Boy Bell got cheeky.

Michael groused something unintelligible as he poured the contents of the mug in the sink. The fizzing and bubbling sound the fluid made as it ran down the drain was disconcerting, but Marcus refused to have it ruin his day.

“So,” John began, rapping his fingers on the table top as if he tried to come up with what to say next. “Uh, it was quite the match yesterday. Too bad your lot lost.”

“Yeah, I heard the Tornadoes got slaughtered,” Michael added his two Knuts as he sat down next to his father. “It must be gutting to know that you’re no good, useless-”

He didn’t get to finish what he wanted to say when John interrupted him in warning. “Micky? Cellar.”

Marcus didn’t see the silent battle between father and son because he was too busy to staring at his folded hands on the table. The urge to scowl at Boy Bell and kick him under the table like in the old days was a difficult one to suppress. He counted eleven dragons until he was sure that the first thing out his mouth wouldn’t be a hex. “Yeah, twas a bummer, but we’ll get our revenge in the rematch. This one is the only one we’ve lost ‘til now, so no harm done.”

There, how calm and collected was that.

Michael just snorted in reply and took a sip of his tea. A non-poisoned one, no doubt.

Conversation died down again; John went back to resting his head in his hands, yawning, while Boy Bell was more interested in surveying the wooden beams in the ceiling than to make small talk. Marcus wracked his brain to come up with something to say. He never had problems with chatting with John before, why was it so hard all of a sudden. Thankfully, he didn’t have torture the grey matter too much when his rescue in the form of Grace Bell entered the kitchen, still laughing at something or the other.

Marcus blinked a few times, not quite understanding what he was seeing. He’d never seen Grace so unkempt before, dressed in a ratty Muggle tracksuit and her hair up in a messy bun. It was worrying; what had they been doing up there for the past hour? Katie must look like a fairy tale princess by now if they’d spent all that time getting her ready. They sure as hell hadn’t spent it on her mother.

“Good morning, darlings,” Grace twittered as she kissed John and Boy Bell.

Seeing that he was the next in line, Marcus turned his cheek towards her. But when it came to him, Grace stopped dead in her tracks, tilting her head and frowning in confusion. She turned to John, who just let out a deep sigh and shrugged his shoulders. She turned to Marcus again, her brows knitting together into a deep frown as if she was trying to decipher something.

Call him a nutter, but Marcus had a feeling that she hadn’t expected to see him this morning.

“What are you doing here?” she finally asked.

See, he was right.

“I- uh, Katie’s birthday?” Marcus broke out in a cold sweat. Had he mixed up the dates? That would be embarrassing. His eyes darted across the kitchen. What had to be a broom wrapped up in colourful paper stood in the corner, festive banners with ‘happy birthday’ hung before the small kitchen window, and another one was draped above the door. It was someone’s birthday, at least. “Uh, she told me to be here for breakfast.”

Clearly not happy with the answer, Grace nodded and took a deep breath. “Katherine Bell, get your arse down here!” she thundered.

Several things happened at the same time. While Katie bellowed back that her mum was to keep her knickers on, the fireplace roared to life with green flames and a small gaggle of witches stumbled out -all dressed in the same way Grace was, and Boy Bell burst out in belly shaking guffaws.

Marcus’ discomfort increased when the witches also stared at him in confusion and took turns asking what he was doing here. His answer -Katie’s birthday- wasn’t an explanation enough for them and they turned to Grace, who in turn replied that she didn’t understand either.

John wasn’t much help since he had made himself as small as possible the minute the witch folk had taken over his kitchen. Boy Bell’s laughs grew louder and louder as the girls and Grace talked about Marcus as if he wasn’t sitting right there.

“I’ve got her presents?” Marcus tried to save face. It didn’t help his case at all. The looks Spinnet and Johnson kept throwing in his direction made him want to crawl up into a ball like John was moments away from doing. Not-Johnson just kept staring at him with her hands on her hips and a scowl on her face.

“I’m ready,” Katie said in a sing-song voice as she hopped into the kitchen. Like the others, she, too, was dressed in unsightly clothes. Her hair frizzed in every direction possible, looking as if she’d just rolled out of her bed.

Marcus wanted to make light of it -he’d seen her look worse after one of their snogging sessions, after all- but the words died in his throat when she stopped dead in her tracks, just like her mother had done before. Her eyes grew wide as saucers as her hand shot up to her mouth. He braced himself for another round of ‘what are you doing here’.

“You’re not supposed to see me like this,” was the first thing she whispered and then, “Oh, shit, I forgot.”

“Happy birthday,” Marcus muttered. Around him, the girls joined Boy Bell’s laughter.

“Thank you.” Katie hurried to him and planted herself in his lap, ignoring her mother’s loudly hissed ‘sit in a sodding chair’ and her father’s constant throat clearing. At least, Michael had stopped laughing. She wrapped her arms around Marcus’ neck and gave him a quick kiss on the lips before she whispered in his ear. “I forgot to Floo-call you last night.”

“I reckon you have other plans then?”

“Yeah, Mum and the girls are taking me to Aphrodite’s Spa for my birthday. They sprung it on me last night. I’m so, so sorry.” She brushed a lock of hair from his forehead, smiling apologetically.

“It happens.” Marcus went over his plans. It looked like he had to cancel the flying carriage ride over the Scottish Highlands and the picnic in Balmoral Enchanted Park. Montague was going to have his head for ruining his carefully constructed romantic day out. He wanted to know how long the spa visit would take to ensure Montague’s other plans didn’t get too messed up, but he didn’t get a chance.

“I’ll see you tonight, yeah? At the Viper?”

Marcus rubbed his brow, trying to recall if the old cinema he’d rented, so they could watch those old muggle films she loved so much, was refundable. He might as well cancel the dinner reservations as well. Although disappointed and a bit miffed, it wasn't a too big deal. He would see her tonight, and if it went according to plan, she wouldn’t leave his side until tomorrow evening.

“Can I give you your present now?” he asked quietly, and as he eyed the small crowd around them, he added, “Alone.”

“You got me a present? Really? Yeah, you give it to me now.”

Katie jumped off Marcus’ lap and all but dragged him into the small corridor. As soon as she slammed the kitchen door behind her, after a fair warning to others not to interrupt them unless it was a life or death situation, she jumped into his arms for a proper, less modest kiss. It made him feel a little better. Just a little.

“I’m gonna make it up to you, promise,” she murmured as she pulled back and leant against him. “Don’t be mad, all right?”

“Me? Mad? Whatever gave you that idea?” Why would he be mad that she chose her friends over him? He was just the boyfriend after all. Pshh. Raging was more like it. “Never, don’t worry about it.”

“Good, good.” Katie patted his chest. When he didn’t get the hint, she looked up smiling and nodding. When that didn’t help either, she rolled her eyes and asked, “My present?”

The excitement Marcus had felt earlier returned a little when he handed over his card first per Lizzy’s instructions. The ooh’s and aww’ sounded promising. Who would have guessed that chits liked painted flower gardens on their cards?

Katie was all smiles as she flipped it open and began to read. For the first few lines, she looked up at him now and then with that expression on her face that promised another good snog on his lumpy sofa, maybe even using her mouth on him, down there, as she had done last week for the first time. Unfortunately, her smiles died down and her brows furrowed the more she neared the end. When she finished, she looked everywhere but at him as she answered his question,

“No.”

“Oh, well…” Marcus swallowed slowly, trying to hide his disappointment. “Was worth a shot. Can’t make you do something you don’t want, right?”

That made her bottom lip tremble. What did he say?

“That wasn’t the real present. I- I got you this.”

Katie accepted the small package with less eagerness than she'd shown whilst tearing the envelope open. When the silver wrapping paper fell to the floor, and the lid of the wooden box (a similar one that he had made her ages ago) came off, she barely glanced at the content.

She offered him a tight smile and pushed the box back into his hands. "It’s beautiful. Put it on me?”

Marcus disappointment grew tenfold as he lifted the golden necklace with the locket from the black velvet cushion and put it around her neck. He didn’t understand where he had gone wrong. He’d spent most of his savings on the goblin-made necklace, spent hours crafting the box -by hand, mind you, and another few hours carving the runes on the sides. According to Lizzy, Katie should have jumped his bones, pepper him with kisses, and agree to marry him right then and there. Not that he was interested in the last part, but her hand down his trousers in thank you would have sufficed.

He didn’t get any of that. Instead, Katie had barely looked at the locket, let alone read the inscription on the back. She didn’t even try to decipher the runes on the box, which spelt the same message on all six sides.

“Oi, Katie, hurry up. We’re running late,” one of her friends yelled, Johnson most likely, as she pounded on the closed door.

“Give me a sec.” Katie turned to Marcus as she hastily pulled the zipper of her tracksuit up to her chin and stuffed the card into her pocket, not even pretending to cherish it. “I need to go. Thank you for the necklace, it’s beautiful. Oh, and the card. It was, uhm, nice.”

_Nice?_

“Yeah, sure, no problem. I’ll see you tonight.”

 

Katie stared at him, waiting for more, and Marcus stared right back because he had no idea what she wanted him to say. He tried to come up with something sensible, romantic, anything, but when her shoulders slumped he knew his chance had passed.

“I’ll see you tonight.” Just before she disappeared into the kitchen, she turned around one last time, grimacing. “Shit, I forgot something else.”

He wanted to ask if she’d forgotten to inform him about an April Fool’s Day in November, but he bit his tongue in time. “What is it?”

Katie pinched the bridge of her nose, almost as if she was about to bring horrible news. “Micky’s coming to the Viper with us. He took the whole weekend off to spend it with me. You don’t mind, do you?”

And horrible news it was.

***

 

**_Back to earlier that evening_ **

“Look up, just once,” muttered Marcus as he pressed his forehead against the glass partition of the VIP balcony. And although the magical energy ran high in the club, he failed to make Katie do what he wanted her to do. Instead, she kept on dancing and laughing with Lee Jordan and non-Johnson.

Annoyed when Boy Bell came into sight, Marcus slumped back and threw his head back against the backrest of the fluffy sofa. Boy Bell was a knobhead, no doubt about that, but he could handle him. His sister on the other hand.

Feeling frustrated he opened his fist. The item he’d found on his way to the loo earlier dangled before his eyes. It was the golden necklace and locket he had given Katie just that morning. She had lost it and instead of panicking and frantically searching for it, as he would have done, she was down there, shaking her arse without a care in the world. Marcus’ face twisted in fury. There would be one goblin less in the morning that was for sure. The bastard he had bought it off had ensured him that the chain wouldn’t break, ever, or that someone other than him would be able to take it off her.

“No good, useless, sodding, goblins,” he muttered. He’d teach that knee-high tosspot not to mess with a wizard.

What was he supposed to do now? Confront her immediately? Or better yet, skirt around the issue and ask to see the necklace when she’d least expect it?

“What to do?” Rubbing his face, Marcus decided that it would be for the best to go down to her. Maybe, she hadn’t noticed that she had lost it. As he sat upright again to see where Katie, he was met with another unpleasant surprise.

“What the…” Some posh looking bloke -Marcus remembered him as the stuck-up Ravenclaw Headboy in his year, was chatting with Katie, appraising her and she didn’t seem to mind it one bit. There was something off about the bloke, and he knew that he’d heard some rumours a long time ago. But having left for Portugal in his last year, Marcus hadn’t kept up with school gossip.

His hand tightened around the locket and his brows furrowed in anger when the band switched to a slow song and the people on the dancefloor paired off.

Boy Bell was nowhere to be seen, neither were not-Johnson and Jordan, not that he cared about them. All he had eyes for was Katie, who had her arms wrapped around the former Headprick’s neck whilst his hands were on her bum as they danced. She didn’t seem to mind that either.

Marcus blinked a few times, rubbed his eyes even to make sure that he saw it right. When nothing changed, he looked over his shoulder to make sure that the blokes saw what he was seeing. They weren’t much help, though. As expected, Higgs and his new fiancée were dry-humping on one of the sofas in a darkened corner created for that particular purpose. Montague was in a deep conversation with recently single Johnson, who had dumped one of the duplicate gingers shortly after the summer. Warrington and Bletchley were too busy chatting up the two girls they’d brought back from the dancefloor to pay any attention to Marcus.

Only Pucey, beside him the only sober one because he was supposed to supervise tonight, had noticed his distress. He flopped down next to Marcus and wrapped his arm around his shoulders in a deliberate effort to keep him on the VIP balcony before he got up and did something stupid.

“You all right, mate?”

“No,” Marcus bit out. Where was his wand when you needed it? “He’s rubbing himself all over her, and she’s letting him.”

Adrian wanted to ensure his friend that he was exaggerating, but when the man Katie was dancing with buried his face in the crook of her neck, he couldn’t help but pull a face. He still hadn’t warmed up to her and each time he tried to, she went and pulled a stunt that made her less likeable. “Yeah, that’s not good. Do you want me to kick him out? Her as well?”

“Merlin’s bleeding balls, why is he doing that for?” Marcus bellowed when the man laughed at something and squeezed Katie's bum while he was at it. He quickly looked away, his lips pressed together in anger. The urge to jump off the balcony and show the tosser whose girl he was fondling was a strong one. And if it hadn’t been for Pucey holding him down, he would have done exactly that.

“Why don’t I get us a beer, yeah? One won't hurt. You can tell me what happened in the match against the Magpies yesterday,” Adrian tried to placate when Marcus began squirming. He whistled over his shoulder to get the other blokes’ attention for help.

“Let me go,” Marcus hissed as he tried to push Pucey off.

“I better not. You wanna talk about it before you do something stupid?” Adrian glanced over his shoulder again. At seeing Bletchley and Warrington’s questioning looks, he brusquely cocked his head in silent order for them to get off their lazy arses and help him.

“What am I, a chit? No, I don’t wanna talk, lemme go,” Marcus growled again. In a final effort to get free, he shoved his elbow in Pucey’s ribs. It had the desired effect. As his friend doubled over, he quickly stood up, his nostrils flaring and chest heaving in anger “I, uh, I’m stepping out for a minute, yeah. I’ll be right back.”

He didn’t wait for Pucey to wheeze in reply, nor did he stop long enough to explain to Bletchley and Warrington what had happened and where he was going. He needed fresh air to clear his mind, and he wasn’t going to get it here.

"What was that all about?” Higgs asked as he sauntered over to his friends after seeing Marcus bolt.

“Katie…” Adrian managed to utter as he slowly stood up, rubbing his abused ribs. He glanced down at the dancefloor, ready to show his friend what the girl was up to and warn him about the sort of witches his fiancée was friendly with. He didn’t like what he was seeing, though. Nope, not at all.

“What’s going on?” Terence asked again. Bletchley and Warrington had joined Pucey, and none of the men looked happy. How bad had Bell cocked up?

Adrian glanced over his shoulder, a wary look on his face. It looked like they needed to get their hands dirty, and he already hated the notion. “Remember Headboy Hunter? He’s hunting again.”

***

 

Katie pouted in disappointment when she glanced up at the VIP balcony. Here she was, doing her best to seduce her boyfriend with her new dance moves so that he would join her on the floor and he didn’t even blink an eye, just kept staring at her and sipping his pumpkin juice. Would it kill him to come down and dance with her?

Still, not the one to give up easily, she shook her bum harder and lifted her arms in the air waving them about to make her breasts look even more appealing than they already were in her new dress. That ought to lure Marcus down. When she dared glanced in his direction again, sure that he was well on his way to her, he hadn’t moved an inch. He didn’t even smile or nodded along with the music like he usually did. No, all that Marcus had for her tonight were angry scowls.

Maybe, just maybe, he was upset with her for ditching breakfast, which was a fair point. Nevertheless, if someone was to be upset, it ought to be her. The careless message in the birthday card trumped her forgetting to tell him that the girls and her mum had planned a day of waxing, plucking, and scrubbing. Did he honestly think that she’d drop her knickers past her knees because he asked her in a very sweet way and got her a present? Arsehole.

“Not an arsehole,” she scolded herself as her hand shot up to the locket resting between her breasts.

It was a beautiful trinket. An oval shaped locket depicting lifelike rose petals with a shiny stone in the middle (diamond, Alicia had concluded knowingly) and an ever so lovely picture of Marcus inside that kept winking at her, hung from the delicate chain. She loved every bit of it and regretted not taking her time to study it when he had first given to her. But as it was, she had been angry and disappointed after reading the card.

Her friends hadn’t understood, of course. Angie had nearly deafened her with her shrill squeals upon seeing it, her mother had required some fanning to keep her from passing out, and Ally had geared into Arithmancy mode to calculate the separate values of the gold and the diamond. The girls and her mum had admitted to fawning over the necklace when it had been on display at Bodrod’s Goblin Made Jewellery Shop in Diagon Alley for weeks until someone had bought it. That someone being Marcus, apparently. She’d even heard Angie tell her mum that it was one of the most popular products at the Weasleys’ Wizard Wheezes these days. Everyone wanted to have it, and since no one could afford the real one, a cheap replica had to do.

Worst of all, Katie was sure the hags she called friends and mum had creamed their knickers after reading the sodding card when it had fallen out her pocket at the spa. Even her mother had muttered what a sweet boy Marcus was. And now, the longer she thought about it, Katie wondered if she had overreacted.

“C’mon, come to me,” she mumbled as she looked up again, just in time to see Marcus lean back.

He was avoiding her just as she had been avoiding him from the moment she’d set foot in the club. Not because she didn’t want to see him, but because she wanted to jump in his arms, lick his face, and tell him to take her back to his flat so she could thank him properly. And she really, really wanted to, but that last sentence he’d written in the card kept her from doing it. Before you knew it, he’d get the wrong message. She’d have to turn him down in return, and the whole evening would be ruined.

Her thumb scratched over the inscription on the back of the locket she had discovered ten minutes ago. Being too dark in the club to decipher the fine engraving and not having her wand handy, she hadn’t been able to read the message yet. Just like that, the knots in her stomach tightened a bit more.

Katie narrowed her eyes into slits as she tried to take over Marcus’ willpower and force him down to her so she could apologise and explain why she said no in the first place. It took a whole song before she finally gave up; it was time to for her to take the first step.

She searched for Leanne, who had sneaked out Hogwarts just to join the celebration tonight, so she could tell her that she was going up to the balcony. To Katie’s astonishment, Leanne had Lee Jordan pinned against the wall, snogging and gyrating against him between his legs under the guise of dancing. He didn’t seem to mind one bit, eagerly pulling her back each time she moved her hips too far from his.

Pulling a face in disgust since Leanne had the tendency to get over enthusiastic whilst kissing, Katie searched for Michael and found him a little further down, sipping his beer and tapping his foot to the beat of the music. Surprisingly enough, he had been almost pleasant tonight. He had joked with the girls, encouraged Angie to strike up a chat with Montague for some odd reason, and had spent more than an hour discussing wizarding politics and the current state of their government with Adrian Pucey.

Also, Michael had been kind enough to help their parents with buying a new Firebolt for her birthday so that she wouldn’t give up on her dream of becoming a professional Quidditch player. Katie was still working up the valour to tell them that she had changed her mind and preferred working at the Ministry. There would be an opening soon at the Quidditch League Headquarters with her name written all over it. That way, she’d stay involved in the sport but also dry and warm in her office with less chance of getting hurt. Win-win for all, mainly for her.

Nevertheless, the only person Michael was awful to tonight was Marcus, snubbing him at every chance he got. From digs about his crooked teeth (Sally had explained a few weeks ago that the Flint men had the tendency to be insusceptible to certain healing spells thus leaving the Muggle way only, which understandibly terrified Marcus) to the Tornadoes’ loss last night and his clothes; a real low blow.

Apparently, the flowery red shirt Katie had picked for him to wear on her birthday looked too cheap, which her traitorous friends had confirmed between their mean sniggers. She hadn’t seen it, though. She liked floral print, she loved the colour red and combined they looked good on Marcus. It had cost her a week’s wage to buy that shirt for him, making it far from cheap in her eyes.

Suddenly, Katie’s hands balled into fists in anger. She was about to tell Michael what a twatwaffle he was to her boyfriend and that if he really disliked him so much, he ought to stop drinking because Marcus was paying for those beers when someone tapped her shoulder. Hoping that it was Marcus, she quickly turned around.

No such luck.

“Wot?” Katie barked at the top of her lungs, annoyed that someone had dared to thwart her plans.

The man, a handsome bloke with wavy blond hair and broad shoulders, flashed a brilliant smile at her. He had a familiarity about him she couldn’t quite place. He briefly glanced at something behind her before he leant in. He smelt nice, not as good as Marcus but then again, no one did.

“Care for a dance?”

A harsh ‘no’ was on her lips when Marcus decided to show his face again at the balcony. He watched her with a dark scowl she couldn’t appreciate. She’d show the big oaf the consequences of ignoring her on her birthday (that she’d started it first was neither here or there).

“Yeah, sure, why not?”

To her displeasure, the band chose that moment to start a slow song. What were the chances of that?

Katie’s skin crawled a little when the man rested his hands rather low on her back instead of her waist, but she’d manage for one song. Or so she told herself.

“What’s your name, beautiful?” the man asked smoothly, his face far too close to hers.

“Katie, yours?” Michael’s angry face briefly flashed by as they turned on the dancefloor. Great, now two men were scowling at her.

“Tristan.”

There, he was too close again. Did he just kiss her earlobe? Shuddering at the action, Katie tried to put more distance between them, but Tristan just hugged her closer.

“You’re Michael Bell’s little sister, aren’t you?”

“Yeah, you know him?” Katie grimaced when he began stroking the curve of her bum. Again, she tried to wriggle free, but he wasn’t having it.

“Oh, yeah, I do. We used to be Housemates, never liked each other much. Tell me, is he still an uptight plonker?” Before she could answer, his hands moved lower, stroking her arse. “You’re still as delicious as I remember. You’ve filled out good.”

“Don’t do that.” Katie stomped on his feet in hopes the pain would make him let go of her. It just made him laugh.

“Why not? Round and firm like the way I like it.”

“Well, I don’t, neither does my boyfriend. We’re done dancing.” Katie looked up at the balcony. Instead of Marcus, Pucey and two others she had forgotten the name of glared down at her. That made five men angry with her and one who had trouble keeping his hands to himself. What a night.

“I don’t see one.” Tristan squeezed her bum, making her yelp. “What d’you say we look for a quieter place. I’d like to get to know you better.”

“Lemme go,” growled Katie as she kicked his shins. It had no effect.

“Only if you’ll come with me,” he answered, his lips pressed to her ear. “C’mon, love, I know you want to.”

Katie ducked as much as she could in an attempt to evade Tristan’s face and body so close to hers. His hands seemed to be everywhere. “Gerrofme. Now!”

Just as she thought that she’d never escape his puckered lips, someone grabbed her shoulder and roughly pulled her back. Pucey, she learnt as he pushed her behind him. Higgs, Montague, and the other two blokes joined them, forming a wall between her and Tristan. Over their shoulders, she saw that Michael had Tristan in a headlock, yelling in his ear.

“…told you back then to stay away from her…” was all that Katie was able to make out over the music. She stared wide-eyed at the scene before her, never having seen Michael like that before.

“Are you all right?” Angie startled her. Alicia stood behind her.

Katie nodded, too stunned to give a proper answer. She was all right, almost. “Where’s Marcus?”

“Flint is outside,” Alicia whispered, her excitement getting the better of her. She was jumping up and down to see past the boys’ backs, ready to get in a few hexes of herself. “Go to him. We’ll fix this.”

 

* * *

**TBC**


	15. The first time Marcus wasn’t jealous, Part 2. A lot of keeping warm was involved whilst confessing to another first.

**_Back to throwing bottles_ **

Marcus picked up another empty beer bottle and weighed it in his hand. He realised that this was the closest he’d get to alcohol until Christmas holiday, all thanks to Ruckus and his stupid rules. How was he supposed to drown his sorrow now? Suddenly, out of nowhere, he had another reason to smash bottles, which he promptly did.

Nevertheless, the sound and sight of shattering glass did nothing to diminish the whirlwind of negativity that coursed through him. But even with the raging embarrassment, anger, and heartbreak, jealousy was the most dominant one. Jealous of her friends that had taken Katie away from him that morning, jealous of her brother because why not, jealous of the fact that some pretty boy could pop out of nowhere and get his hands all over her whilst his efforts had been discarded with one word. Marcus wanted to smash the bottles on someone’s head instead of the wall.

But he couldn’t do that, could he?

Maybe, if he- No, he couldn’t.

Besides, he wasn’t jealous.

Nor embarrassed.

Or angry.

Just a bit upset.

He just needed a few more minutes of fresh air, and he’d be as good as new.

Marcus picked up another empty bottle just to prove to himself how much he wasn’t jealous, nor angry, and certainly not embarrassed. As the bottle shattered into a million pieces, the source of all his non-existing emotions rounded the corner, rubbing her bare arms to keep warm. The bint hadn’t retrieved her wand and cloak from the bouncer. What was she trying to do, catch a cold?

Although he pretended not to have noticed her, he couldn’t resist looking her over from the corner of his eye. Where he had expected her all smiles and giggles because of that Ravenclaw wanker, she looked dishevelled and pale in the dim light of the street lantern.

Fuck, now non-worry had decided to join the mix.

"Marcus?”

Ignore her, just ignore her. “What?”

So far for ignoring.

Katie darted over to his side and tugged at his arm as she asked, “What are you doing here?”

“Nothing.” Marcus kept his arm stiff, fighting her freakishly firm grip. He knew exactly what she was trying to do. He wouldn’t fall for it any longer. She had evaded him the whole night, why should he give in first now that she had changed her mind?

“Relax your arm for a bit,” Katie ordered, and of course, he obliged.

As Marcus silently cursed his inability to say no to her, his arm curled around her shoulders on its own accord and pulled her close to keep her warm.

He stared down his nose at her as she nestled into his side, rubbing her face against his shirt. Something wasn’t right with her, he was sure that he heard her sniffling, but his own misgivings with her stopped him from inquiring. They stood like that for a few minutes when Katie asked again what he was doing out here.

“Why do you care?”

She looked up in askance, and he pretended not to see those big brown eyes that made him feel funny deep down in his belly. He tried hard not to focus on her normally pink lips painted red tonight. He pretended not to see the tears in her lashes. Hippogriff tears as far as he was concerned. His mum and sisters got away with murder because of those fake tears. Apparently, crying absolved them from anything. To make matters worse, they were teaching it to his nieces as well.

It wouldn’t work on him, though.

“Of course, I care. Why would you say that?” Katie asked wearily.

“You know why.” No seriously, why were those tears in her lashes?

Her brows furrowed in confusion as she shrugged off his arm and stepped away from his side. That was a new one. He suddenly felt a lot colder without her and held up his arm in the air so she could step right back in. She did no such thing to his confusion.

“No, I don’t. What are you on about, Marcus?”

His resolve to be cold towards her until he got his emotions sorted out weakened the longer he was in her presence. In a final attempt to stand his ground, he pulled out the necklace from his pocket. He wasn’t about to forgive just yet, not after she’d made him look like tosser for anyone to see. She had to apologise first.

“What’s that?” Katie asked.

“Oh, nothing,” Marcus said shrugging, trying to hide the fact that the question took him aback. She ought to look surprised, ashamed. Not oblivious. Then it hit him; she cared so less about his gift that she couldn’t recall how it looked like now that it dangled before her. Talk about a hex to the heart. “Just the present I got you for your birthday. You know, the one that you couldn’t be arsed to look at for longer than a second.”

She had that look on her face again, the one from this morning. The one that said that he had mucked up something. 

Must. Not. Give. In. 

“You know, go back to your boyfriend. I’m sure he wouldn’t mind another dance. Is that what you call it these days, by the way? I mean, practically snogging a stranger while your _real_ boyfriend watches?”

_‘Fuck, shut up, mate.’_

He’d expected guilt from her, not fire-pitting anger. He was the only one who had the right to feel that way tonight. What he also hadn’t expected was to see her reach inside her dress (he would have loved to see her fondle herself any other night) and hold up the necklace around her neck. A necklace with a locket attached to it.

“Oh, shit,” he muttered. If Katie was wearing hers, whose had he been carrying around the whole night? Grimacing because he already knew the answer and knowing that it should’ve been the first thing to check, he turned the locket around. No inscription. Definitely not the one he bought.

“You’re a sodding arse, Marcus Flint, for thinking that about me,” Katie said, her voice strained. “I just- then he… You weren’t there! Arsehole!”

“Bell, listen…” And that was the final nail in the coffin. His heart broke a little when she started crying at calling her by her last name. Another piece cracked off when she flipped him the bird whilst calling him a few more choice names and stalked off without a single glance back when he tried to pull her close again. 

Marcus didn’t go after her, not sure if she’d want him to. By the time his brain started working again, mentally kicking his arse for making her cry, he went back inside to find her. Katie had already gone home with her brother. His friends were kind enough to explain what had happened on the dancefloor, filling him in on Tristan Hunter with his overzealous wandering hands that had got him expelled a few weeks before his N.E.W.T.s back in the day and how he had manhandled Katie tonight.

Yeah, that was not good.

Not at all.

It was a good thing Pucey and Higgs had locked Hunter in one of the backrooms for him. You know, to ‘sort’ the issue and make it clear to the bastard that if someone tells you to stop, you ought to stop. Later on, Marcus got helping hand in emphasising that point.

But it didn’t make him feel any better.

How in Merlin’s name was he going to make up this cock-up of cock-ups to Katie? 

***

**_A few hours later, very early next morning_ **

Darkness surrounded her. Her woollen blanket was pulled up over her head, safeguarding from the mean world. Her eyes were burning, her head pounding, and she’d already counted thousands of dragons. Not even the rhythmic pelting of rain against her window or the eerie howl of wind could lull her into sleep. It was useless, really; she needed to sleep to process what happened last night but the happenings of last night kept her awake.

“Merlin’s left tit,” Katie said sighing. She threw her blanket off and turned to her bedside cabinet.

Quarter past five on Sunday morning. She should’ve been stumbling out the Viper around this time, too sloshed to stand upright, not lamenting like an old granny that she couldn’t sleep.

Staring at the ceiling, she started counting again. Instead of dragons, she began counting imaginary curses flung at Marcus for being an utter muppet to her. Her hand curled around the locket resting on her chest when she reached the second hex. Maybe, she ought to Floo-call him to give him a piece of her mind and subsequently, a chance for him to apologise. After a quick glance at the clock again, she noted that just three minutes had passed. He was probably still out, having fun with his friends without a care in the world.

“Gormless git,” she muttered as she studied the runes on the backside of the locket, the same as on the box. Not having studied Ancient Runes since her O.W.L. exams and burning the books right after barely passing, she had no idea what it read, which angered her even more. Why couldn’t he have used plain English for his romantic gestures?

Just like that, she managed to fling a third imaginary hex at Marcus, and she was already working on number four when a light tapping sound broke her concentration. Frowning, she lowered her blanket a little. Pelting rain and the harsh wind was all she heard for a long time. Then, just as she was about to cover her eyes again, she heard it again, much louder this time. It sounded as if the branches of the tree outside were brushing against her window.

Huffing in annoyance because she had to leave the warm cocoon and cursing her father for not pruning the tree sooner, she rolled out bed. Well, if he didn’t want to do something about it, she’d have to blast the sodding thing into timber herself. With her wand ready to use, she traipsed to the window and roughly pushed the curtains aside, and immediately closed them again.

Marcus.

“Not again,” she groaned and looked down at herself. She had changed in her overlarge and old flannel comfort pyjamas when she got home last night. The one that had been her gran’s and resembled an old potato bag with holes in it. It was the second time in less than twenty-four hours that he saw her at her worst. Then she remembered that she was upset with him and she shouldn’t care what he thought of her state of dress. He shouldn't be here in the first place.

Katie was about to go back to bed when she realised that this was her chance to give him that piece of her mind she’d been thinking about earlier. It took her a few minutes to put up the Silencing Charms that would allow her to scold him to her heart’s content without the worry that she’d wake her parents or Micky in the process.

Angrily, she pushed the curtains aside again and stared long and hard at him, hands on her hips and nose jutted high in the air. Marcus Flint, sodden to the bone and barely holding on to his broom in the harsh wind, hovered before her window. His near blue lips spread into a grin, and he held up what was left of a bouquet of pink lilies, petals floating in all directions with each gust.

Katie’s first thought was to save the flowers by letting him in. The second was another reminder that she was still angry thus couldn’t be too kind. With pain in her heart, she loved lilies, she gave him her meanest look and waved her hands to shoo him off. In reaction, he stuck out his bottom lip, amplifying his pity-me-face. It wouldn’t work, of course. He could stay there the whole day and turn into an icicle for all she cared, and she still wouldn’t let him in.

Not a chance.

Just no.

He did look utterly freezing, though.

And was that lighting in the distance?

Maybe, it wouldn’t hurt to let him in for a few minutes. To save the lilies, of course.

“Damn me and my big heart,” Katie grumbled as she opened the window. Without saying a word –he had been an arse to her, after all, she took Marcus' cold hand and pulled him inside.

Her plan was to continue the silent treatment, make him talk first, beg and grovel at her feet. But that was before she noticed how hard he was shivering when he held out the bouquet to her.

“How long have you been out there? Didn’t you put up any charms?” she quietly scolded him in worry as she tugged his robes off. Underneath, his shirt and trousers were soaked as well. “Honestly, what were you thinking?”

“Hours. No. You,” Marcus managed to say through the clattering of his teeth.

“Nice try, it’s not gonna work.” Although Katie made it sound stern, a hint of a smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. He’d weathered the cold and rainstorms for her; that was kind of romantic. She took the bouquet, or rather the pathetic bunch of stems from his hand and tapped her wand twice on his shoulder, muttering drying and warming charms.

“Thank-thank you.” Despite the charms, Marcus couldn’t stop shivering or stop his teeth from clattering. He hugged himself, but the cold had seeped too deep to be remedied by that. “Coh-cold.”

Katie scratched her temple, hesitating about what to do next. Eventually, she let out a small sigh and took him by the hand. Marcus didn’t say much as she led him to her bed, nor when she crawled into it. In fact, he stood as stiff as a rod gawking at her.

“Mum’s woven Heating Charms into the sheets and blanket.” She raised her brows in surprise when he kept staring. Wasn’t this partially what he’d been after? “Take off your trousers and shirt and get in.”

“Are you sure?”

Katie bit the inside of her cheeks to keep herself from laughing and reminded herself that she was angry with him. The only reason she allowed him in her bed was that she’d loathe explaining to Sally and Will why their only son had died in her bedroom of hypothermia and why she hadn’t done anything about it. That was it, honest.

“Yes, get in here. No funny business, though.”

Marcus didn’t need to be told twice, nor did he ask her again. In record breaking speed, he kicked off his boots and took off his clothes until he wore in nothing more than his boxers. His hands covered his crotch as the tips of his ears reddened a crimson red. Goose bumps covered his skin from head to toe, and the fine hairs on his arms and legs stood upright as he tried hard and failed to control the shivering.

“What are you waiting for?” Katie asked as she threw the blanket back and patted the mattress. As he settled next to her, she turned her back. When nothing happened, she looked over her shoulders, brows raised. “Well?”

Marcus lay on his side with arms crossed over his chest as if he feared that she’d use it against him if he touched her. “I don’t know what you want me to do.”

“Hug me. I’m warm enough for the both of us.”

Katie pretended not to hear the shuddering breath he let out as he wrapped his ice-cold arms around her and pulled her against his even colder chest. They lay like that for a long while as he thawed, watching the sunrise through the half-open curtains. When he finally brushed her hair aside and lowered his face to the nape of her neck, kissing it softly, she suppressed the urge to sigh ‘finally’ and snuggled closer.

“I’m sorry,” he murmured. The trembling had subsided with having Katie so close and slowly made room for an all over tingling sensation as he warmed up.

“For what?”

He stilled for a second, his hand hovering over her hip. As he slowly lowered it, his fingers curled around her flannel-clad flesh, he quietly answered her. “Everything. For taking my bad mood out on you. I shouldn’t have said that about, uh, that guy. I should’ve known that you wouldn’t do that. Oh, and, uh, and the, uh, necklace. Johnson said those duplicate gingers made copies to sell. She said that everyone has one these days. I would’ve bought you something else if I had known.”

“Fred and George,” Katie automatically corrected him. Her fingers entwined with his on her hip. “They told you about Tristan?” Feeling his nod, she asked further. “What happened to him? Micky was waiting for me outside to take me home and wouldn’t tell.”

Marcus didn’t answer her. Instead, trailed his finger up and down her side before pulled her closer, kissing her neck again in hopes she’d forget that he hadn’t answered.

“Marcus?”

“Hmm?”

Katie pushed her bum back, putting pressure on his crotch as she glanced over her shoulder. “Tell me. You haven’t killed him, have you?”

“No.” His hand crept under the elastic of her pyjama bottom to keep her in place; he’d take everything he could get. She had no knickers on, he discovered, and the curls that had been there just a few days ago were gone. Just like that, he forgot that they were having a conversation. There were more pressing matters to figure out, like what happened down there?

“Marcus?”

“What?”

“What have you done to him?” Katie imagined herself as an Azkaban widow who'd have to visit him there for the next decade or two. Would the Wizengamot be lenient on him if she told her side of the story?

“Done what to who?”

“Tristan?”

“Oh, right.” He tried to distract her, his finger already dipping lower, but she grabbed his wrist as she hissed ‘tell me’. “I’ve done nothing. My career and all.”

It was the truth, for the better part.

“Nothing?”

“Nothing,” he confirmed. He’d merely taken the bastard’s wand and replaced it with a wonky portkey with destination unknown. He had no idea of how Boy Bell got his hands on one, and he preferred to keep it that way. He’d deal with the fallout when Hunter managed to find his way back to Britain from wherever he currently was.

“What aren’t you telling me? I know Micky went out again. Have you seen him?”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He couldn’t tell her everything, could he? Not since he and Boy Bell had a gentleman’s agreement not to mention it ever again. Neither would want others to think that they were friends or anything.

Katie huffed at the lack of explanation but didn’t push further. Marcus didn’t waste any time finding his way into her pyjama bottoms again when she released his wrist. To warm his hand, he told himself. Besides, the way she settled against him was enough evidence that she didn’t mind. Now to figure out why everything was so smooth down there. He wasn’t sure yet whether he liked it or not.

“Why were you such a pillock tonight?” she suddenly asked. “Don’t tell me it was about the dancing. You were an insufferable bellend before that.”

“You were too. What was your reason?”

Even though she regretted having to do so just as it was starting to feel good, Katie grabbed his wrist again. “I asked first. Go on.”

Marcus let out a deep sigh because he couldn’t come up with a believable excuse that fast. Just when he wanted to distract her, a piece of unwanted advice his father had given him a while ago popped up: something-something about long and happy relationships and the importance of hashing things out. It wouldn’t hurt to give it try, would it?

“I had plans for us today,” he started and immediately shushed her when she asked what they were. “I had plans and had to cancel them because you forgot to tell me that you had something else to do. But I got over that; we can do those things another time. Then I gave you my present, and you barely looked at it. You crumpled the card I spent days writing. Oh, and let’s not forget the ignoring poor me the whole night while having laughs with everyone else. And just because you’ve asked, I won’t mention you dancing with another bloke. I reckon that’s enough reason, yeah?”

Marcus screwed his eyes shut as he waited for her reply. Any minute now, she’d kick him out and tell him to get bent because she’d think his reasons for being upset with her were childish. Any minute now, she was going to laugh in his face and ask herself aloud whatever it was she’d seen in such a prick like him.

Katie did neither of those things. Instead, she turned around and propped herself on her elbow, smiling. “You were jealous,” she said teasing.

“No,” he answered slowly. “A bit miffed, s’all. Well, go on, what was your reason?”

“It was your card. It put me off.”

“I gathered that much. Why, though?” His eyes fluttered shut when she ran her finger down his jaw and leant down to kiss the tip of his nose.

Katie didn’t need to think about the answer. “You’re going too fast, and I can’t keep up.”

“With what?”

“This.” She waved her hand between them, more specifically between her and his hand that had found its way up her pyjama top.

“You don’t want me to do that?” he asked confused as he withdrew his hand as if he had burnt himself on a hot cauldron.

“I didn’t say that.”

“You’ve lost me.”

“You told me in your card that you wanted me to stay the night with you-”

“No,” Marcus interrupted her. “I asked you; there is a difference.”

“Fine, you asked. But you didn’t do that because you want us to sleep, the real kind, did you?” Katie asked, her voice quieting down to a mere whisper.

“Yes?” Seeing her incredulous look, he shrugged and as he averted his eyes. “No. But in my defence, I thought you wanted to as well. You know, with you not being able to keep your hands off me and all.”

That surprised Katie, and just as she wanted to protest that she most certainly could, her eyes fell on her hand under his boxer’s waistband. When had that happened? Ultimately, keeping it in there won the brief internal debate.

“Doesn’t mean we can shag yet,” she answered shrugging, wrapping her hand around his cock for good measure.

“Wha-why not?” He shifted a little, pulling down his boxers as he lamented the mixed signals she was giving out. “I real-really don’t understand. Oh, that feels good.”

Katie leant in again, trailing kisses along his jaw to win some time to gather her thoughts. “I’m not ready yet. We’ve just started doing _this_.”

Marcus shot upright at the sudden jerk that shot sparks up his spine and down to his toes. “What was that?”

Katie smiled coyly. “Someone told me to try that.”

“Who?” He put his hand on hers, grimacing in pain when she got a bit too enthusiastic. She still had the tendency to alternate between making him feel like he was in heaven one stroke followed by gut-wrenching pain that made him want to curl up into a ball and cry with the next.

“Sorry.” She relaxed her hand a bit as she settled into his side, lightly caressing up and down his shaft and grinning at hearing him pant and moan. “Doesn’t matter who told me. The point is that this is new enough for me for now. I want to enjoy it, get better at this first before we have sex. And there’s…”

He wouldn’t have noticed her trailing off through the blood rushing in his ear down to cock if she hadn’t buried her face in his chest. He could practically _feel_ her face flush, and in all honestly he wanted to ignore it until she got him off because with the way she kept on going, it wouldn’t take all too long. Nevertheless, he still had just enough blood left in his brain to register that whatever she’d wanted to say was the real issue they’d have to deal with first.

So, he did the most difficult thing he could think of at that moment and gently pried her hand off his rock-hard cock in the hopes she wouldn’t forget to finish what she’d started once they were done talking.

“There’s what, love?” Feeling her shake her head, he asked again and again until she relented. Nothing but hoarse whispers came out in reply. “I didn’t catch that.”

When she looked up, she had that expectant look on her face again, the one from yesterday morning. The one that told Marcus that she wanted him to say something to her and he had no idea what it could be.

“Promise you won’t laugh or get mad?” she asked in a small voice.

He wanted to reply that it depended on what she wanted to say, but it seemed better not to express that. Besides, he obviously wanted her to finish the job later. “I won’t.”

“It’s just- Gods, Mum already said I was mental. Let’s drop is, all right?” She buried her face in his chest again.

Marcus stared long and hard at her, his painful erection long forgotten. What could be so bad about him that she had to discuss it with her mother first? Not satisfied with her suggestion to drop it, he reached for her chin and kindly pushed it up so that she faced him. “What’s going on?”

“It’s stupid, never mind.”

“C’mon.”

“It feels weird to tell you.”

“Is it that bad?”

“You might think it is.”

“Are we still talking about shagging?”

“Yes. No. Uh, maybe.” Seeing his brows knit together in confusion and irritation, Katie knew that she couldn’t put it off any longer. She took a deep breath, readying herself to pour her heart out. “I always thought that when I’d make love-”

She stopped mid-sentence at seeing his nose scrunch up at the choice of words. “Don’t be a prick. Fine, have sex, shag like rabbits, have a willy in my fanny. Better?”

“Loads, as long it was my willy you used to dream about,” Marcus answered cheekily.

“Whatever. Where was I? Oh, yeah. I always thought it would happen when I got married. Don’t worry; I’m not waiting that long. I changed my mind a while ago” she quickly reassured when his eyes grew large in horror. “But still, I want us on the same page before we finally do it.”

“What page? I don’t understand.”

Katie gulped hard. Her hands grew clammy, and her heart started beating in her throat. Before she could change her mind, she blurted out, “I- I love you.”

Marcus just stared at her, which made her even more nervous than she already was. At least, he hadn't run off as her mother had told her that he would do.

“Mum said it was too soon to say it. She even said that I was mental to think about that after a few months. According to her, I ought to fly a few more brooms. But I know what I feel, especially when it comes to you. Thinking about you lights up my day, being with you makes me happy. It hurts my head when I think about the day I won’t get to see you again, and I keep wishing that that day never comes. I already miss you before we have to say goodbye for the day. The silly thing is that I want to miss you because that reminds me of how lucky I am to have you when I see you again the next time. And-and I want you to feel the same way about me before we take the next step. I know it’s stupid, but that’s how I feel and you ought to know that.”

Marcus wanted to speak up, but Katie put her finger on his lips and shook her head. “Let’s leave it at that for now, yeah? I don’t want you to say it because you feel you have to."

He opened his mouth again, ready to retort, but eventually decided against it. Instead, he snaked his arm around her waist and pulled the blankets. As she ran her fingers through the few hairs on his chest, his chin rested on the top of her head. Just as he changed his mind again about saying something, her light snores reached his ears.

“Silly girl,” he muttered as he stealthily reached for the locket hidden inside her pyjama.

After studying the inscription for a long time, he concluded that using Ancient Runes to get his message across hadn’t been the best idea he had ever come up with. He should have followed Lizzy’s advice on that one.

***

A little over an hour later, Michael Bell opened the door to his sister’s bedroom to wake her so that could have breakfast together before he was due at Hogwarts. In a time not so long ago, he would’ve made a scene, yelling and cursing, and would’ve flung Dark Curses to end what he was witnessing. But as it was, he did none of those things. In fact, he took his time to go to his room and retrieve his camera to capture the hilarious sight from all angles. He even did his best to do it as quietly as possible not to wake the two lovebirds.

He wasn’t sick nor Imperiused, but merely honouring the temporary truce he’d reached with Flint last night. His sister was fully dressed, which made the biggest difference, and being the opportunist he was, Michael was sure that photographs could come in handy one day. Besides, it was funny to see Katie sprawled atop her boyfriend, heavily drooling on his chest whilst the big oaf himself lay folded in such an uncomfortable position in the small bed that he had to be sore all over once he woke up.

So, instead of causing a scene, Michael took his time taking pictures and casting Stickying Charms on the couple before quietly closed the door and joined his parents for breakfast. His father was busy cooking whilst his mother poured herself another coffee to wake up. Judging by the number of empty wine bottles in the sink and the stale smell that both seemed to exude with each movement, his parents had a celebration of their own last night. What a shame it was that all the Sober-Up Potions in the house had disappeared for some reason.

“What are you grinning at?” Grace asked gruffly and immediately regretted it. Her voice came out too loud for her poor, alcohol soaked brain to handle. “Is she coming down already? I’m starving.”

“No. _They_ are still asleep. I didn’t have the heart to wake _them_.” Michael’s sly grin grew wider when he noticed his father’s spatula halt mid-air as he tilted his head. It took his mother a little longer to pick up the subtle hints.

One.

Two.

Three.

“Since when don’t you- What?”

…and there it was.

Grace was suddenly wide-awake, and as she narrowed her eyes into slits, she evenly asked, “ _They_? You just told us that you brought her home last night. You and her as in just the two of you. What do you mean, _they_?”

“Yes, I brought her home, Mum. Just the two of us.” Michael crossed his arms, smirking smugly. Although he might have come to a tentative agreement with Flint, it didn’t mean that he wouldn’t rat them out to his parents to get the dirty work done. “But she isn’t alone any longer. It’s hardly my fault that she does things behind my back.”

“With ‘they’ you mean one of the girls, right?” John asked carefully, nodding his head behind Grace’s back in silent instruction for Michael to lie. “The girls are having a surprise sleepover you mean?”

“No, not what I mean at all.” Michael drained the coffee in his mother’s mug as he watched her turn purple. Knowing exactly how to keep his audience’s attention, he grabbed his cloak and kissed his mum goodbye until Yule without mentioning Katie or her mystery guest despite her threat to disown him if he didn’t speak up immediately. Only when the time came to throw a pinch of Floo-powder into the hearth and leave, he finally showed some mercy.

“I reckon Flint must have crept into her bedroom after I went to bed. Can you believe what a sneaky bastard he is for doing that? Oh, and you ought to punish Katie for going against the rules. You know, for having her half-naked boyfriend in her bed without informing you first. He’s a bad influence on her. Who knows what else he’s manipulating her to do.”

Michael hadn’t seen his mother move that fast in ages or ever heard her curse so loudly. He wished he could stay long enough to see how Flint and Katie talked their way out that sticky situation. especially since they would be stuck together for the next few hours.

He was still grinning by the time he tumbled out the fireplace in his private quarters at Hogwarts. Even the howler Katie sent him hours later at dinner couldn’t ruin his good mood. Nothing could.

He’d finally one-upped Flint.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The soundtrack for the next chapter to get into the mood... 
> 
> For Marcus: Doin' It, LL Cool J  
> For Katie: Touch me, Samantha Fox
> 
> Yeah, it'll be that first. :)


	16. The first time. Yes, that one.

After a too long and too cold winter, spring finally came to Britain late April. Torrential showers made way for clear blue skies as the warmth of the sun grew stronger with each passing day. Instead of sitting on a terrace somewhere and enjoying the setting sun and all the wine she could handle, Katie spent the comfortably warm Friday night on the lumpy sofa in Marcus' London flat.

Humming along with the music from the Wireless, she stroked his hair. He lay on his stomach between her legs, head on her chest, and his trousers still around his knees. Between sleepy mutterings and loud snores, he had the tendency to jolt awake and feebly tug at the locket resting on her chest as he told her that was ready if she was before he fell asleep again.

It was a sad ending to what she had hoped to be a romantic evening away from prying eyes.

With a few weeks left to the Quidditch season, Ruckus had upped the training schedule to six days a week, twelve hours a day until the last match of the season. The Tutshill Tornadoes were well on their way to become Premier League champions for the first time in twenty years, and the old codger wasn’t about to let the championship slip through his fingers now that his team was so close. Apparently, exhausting his team to near-unconscious state was a part of his masterplan.

“My poor baby,” Katie muttered as she ran her finger down Marcus’ stubbly cheek. His only reaction was a deep sigh as he snuggled closer. The poorly tattooed Welsh Green on the curve of his arse stretched out yawning before it curled up again and continued its muted snores in sync with his.

Although she didn’t blame him, she couldn’t deny that she was disappointed at how the night had prematurely ended before starting. She had cooked his favourite meal -Welsh Rarebit, courtesy to Sally for teaching her, locked the Floo when he was in the shower, and put up owl repellents so that no one would interrupt the talk she’d set her heart on having. 

Unfortunately, all her efforts turned out to be in vain, and with just half an hour left before she was supposed to be home, the chances of them having that talk was minimal. Marcus had fallen asleep in the shower, and he would have still been in there if she hadn’t pulled him out after an hour. Despite his assurances that he was fit enough to eat, he’d fallen asleep at the table.

She’d hoped that a bit fooling around would've helped him wake up and set the right mood for their conversation, but all he had managed before dozing off was to shimmy his pyjama trousers to his knees. He hadn’t even asked if she was ready to go further than their usual routine, something he had done at least once every fortnight since her birthday last November.

Which, coincidentally, was what she needed to talk to him about tonight. Almost six months had passed since she told him that she loved him and he still hadn’t reciprocated. She hadn’t expected him to do so right then and there but hadn’t given up hope that he’d do it in the weeks after either. Well, he hadn’t.

December had rolled around, and their first Christmas had come and gone without the simple declaration. New Year’s had been the same. Valentine’s Day had been a complete bust with him being in France because the Tornadoes had qualified to play in the European Champions’ League. Upon his return, he’d given her box of chocolates and a bottle of expensive perfume, both confiscated by her mother the next day. Nothing had happened at Easter either, other than more chocolates and a quick snog and grope behind his mum’s chicken coop while they were supposed to supervise his nieces and nephews’ egg hunt.

Frankly speaking, Katie was getting worried and desperate. What if he never said it back? Would she need to break up with him over that?

“Say after me,” she whispered in his ear. “I. Love. You.”

Marcus grunted something unintelligible and buried his face deeper between her breasts. Sighing in disappointment, she glanced at the old clock on the wall. It was time to go home. Nothing was going to happen tonight, talking or otherwise. That was for sure.

***

Slumped in his favourite chair, John Bell fought against sleep and the effects of too much wine he had over dinner with the Flints. Unfortunately, it was his turn to wait for Katie to get home per Grace’s instructions. Just when he thought that he no longer could keep his eyes open, the fireplace in the kitchen roared to life, signalling Katie’s arrival with plenty of time to spare. In a few more minutes, he could crawl in bed next to his wife.

“I’m home,” Katie called out quietly, followed by loud sniffles and the sound of chair scratching over tiles.

It sounded as if someone was in desperate need of a shoulder to cry on. John groaned inwardly at the realisation that it would be his shoulder, delaying his bedtime even more. The glimmer of hope that he was mistaken vanished when he made his way into to the kitchen and found Katie at the kitchen table with her face buried in her hands. His first thought was to go and wake Grace so she could handle whatever their daughter’s problem was. But when he noticed her shaking shoulders, he decided against it. He’d like to hear it first-hand if Marcus needed a lesson in how to treat the delicate puppet their Katie was. 

“Are you all right, love?” he asked as he sat down next to her, frowning. “What’s wrong?”

“S’nothing,” Katie cried without looking up. “Go to bed.”

“I’d like to,” John started carefully, “But you’re sobbing all over my table, and I’d like to know why. You know, before the worry keeps up all night.”

Katie hastily wiped her cheeks and took a few deep breaths before she threw him a quick glance, smiling tightly. “I’m not sobbing. I’ve soot in my eyes, s’all.”

John hummed in disbelief. He rapped his fingers on the tabletop, trying to figure what had got into her. Of course, there was a clear explanation for everything. “Has Marcus done something to make you cry?”

Her fake smile faltered and her brows knitted together into a deep scowl. “No, Dad, he didn’t _do_ anything.”

John’s eyes grew wide in panic when a sudden thought hit him. “Don’t tell me you broke up with him? Oh, Katie, how could you do this to me? We were supposed to watch the match against Puddlemere tomorrow. I can’t believe-”

“Bloody hell, Dad, good to know you have your priorities straight.” Katie rolled her eyes in annoyance. “But no, we didn’t break up. Your free skybox tickets are safe.”

“Oh, good, good. So, what’s wrong then?”

“Nothing, I’m fine. _We_ are fine.”

“You sound like your mum right now.”

Katie opened her mouth to protest the accusation, but eventually thought better of it. “Fine. If you must know, he fell asleep as soon as he got home. You should do the same. Shoo!”

“Yeah, no. Asleep, huh?” John rapped his fingers some more. Then he remembered that she’d spent most of her nights with Sally last week to learn how to make Welsh Rarebit. He wished that he and Grace were still in that honeymoon stage where she cooked him his favourite meals without him needing to beg for it. “Are you miffed that he didn’t eat the dinner you made him? Or didn’t he like it? You should have brought it back here. I would have loved some.”

“Ask Mum to make it for you then.” Katie shook her head in disbelief, her frown deepening. “I don’t want to you talk about it. Go to bed.”

“No way! I have a riddle to solve.” John pretended to think. “Are upset about your curfew? I can talk to your mum about it if you want. I mean, uh, you’re old enough to… you know… spend the night with your boyfriend. I know it can be bothersome when you’re just about to… Uhm, you know, cosied up and all.”

“Dad! We don’t- We’re not doing- No!” Katie said stammering, her eyes as wide as saucers. Her indignation was short-lived, though. As she deflated, she said sheepishly, “You won’t mind talking to her? Uh, for later?”

“Sure, no problem, love.” John patted her hand, regret already building inside his chest. He was sure that Grace wouldn’t agree without putting up a fight first. Then another thought hit him, and he wasn't sure how to feel about it. “So, you two don’t have… I mean, as long as you’re safe about it, it isn’t any of my business.”

“Good Gods, Dad, no,” Katie said moaning as she dropped her head in her hands again, “I don’t want to talk about that with you. Go to bed already. Please!”

“Is he pushing you? It’s okay to say no, love, don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Do you want me to talk to Will to keep Marcus in line? Or better yet, if he’s pushing you, you can break up. I won’t mind losing the season tickets he promised me for next year.” John watched Katie in bathed breath, silently going over the ancient rules of duelling his father had taught him ages ago as a part of his Pureblood education. He liked Marcus and the other Flints well enough, but he wouldn’t idly stand by and watch his little girl get hurt. Although, it’d be a shame to lose those tickets.

“He isn’t pushing, just asking now and then,” was Katie’s muffled answer after a few moments of silence. “I don’t mind him asking. It just…”

“It’s just what, love?” John smothered his laughter when she glared at him from between her fingers.

“I always say no,” she muttered. Her cheeks, even the tips of her ears had flushed a deep scarlet.

“He’s fine with that? Right?” John narrowed his eyes, surveying his daughter’s stance so he’d be able to pick up on any lies she might tell to save Marcus’ arse. Her shoulders slumped as she looked up. Her eyes were brimming again, and her quivering bottom lip stuck out. He braced himself for her answer, ready to run out the door and go after Marcus in case he’d hurt her somehow. “C’mon, tell me. My old ticker handle the suspense, love.”

“Yeah, he’s okay with it,” Katie cried softly. “He doesn’t push or anything. He says that he’ll wait until I’m ready.”

“What’s the problem then?” When she merely shrugged her shoulders, he gently nudged her. “Do you want me to wake your mum? You can talk to her about it if that's easier.”

“Please, no!” Katie exclaimed horrified. “I don’t want to hear about her ex-boyfriend. She always goes on and on about him whenever I ask her, uh, boy things. It’s disgusting.”

“She told you about Lestrange?” Seeing Katie nod, John pressed his lips so hard together that they turned into a pale line. It looked like he’d need to have a chat with Grace in the morning. She had nearly ripped his head off when he used his ex-fiancée as an example in his talks with Micky. Talk about double standards. But for now, he had a daughter to guide.

“Talk to me about it, then. I know it’s hard to believe, but I was young once.” To John’s surprise, Katie didn’t splutter or told him to go away. Against all expectation, she began talking and just like that, another brick of regret fell to the pit of his stomach.

She told him about her birthday, about the first time that Marcus had asked her to stay the night at his flat. But as soon as she reached the part wherein she’d said no and her reasoning behind it, John had to admit that it wasn't as bad as he'd expected. 

“I’ll have to be a bit more patient, I guess,” Katie concluded, staring at her hands. “I can’t push him to do something he isn’t ready for, right?”

“Oh, silly girl. That would be wrong, yes, that goes both ways,” John said laughing, which grew louder at seeing her outraged expression. He wrapped his arm around her shoulder and pulled her close, kissing the top of her head. “Look, I’m not gonna pretend that I’m sorry for the lack of, uh, process between the two of you. But have you talked to him about it?”

“Of course, I have. But he just laughs it off and changes the subject. I guess I’ll need to be more patient.”

 “Or, he’s a bit disappointed, just like you are.”

“You’re supposed to be on my side.” Katie wriggled herself free and crossed her arms over her chest, scowling. “Why would he be disappointed, anyway? I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“Are you sure about that?” Laughing, John tugged at the locket she was wearing. “Tell me, have you figured out what the runes on this thing say? And the box, I’ve seen the box it came in, sweetheart. He must have put a lot of work into making that.”

Katie frowned as she looked down at the golden trinket. “No…I, uh, keep forgetting. But what’s that have to do with anything?”

John’s laughter faded into a deep sigh as he grabbed his wand. Something Katie was too much like her mother, no matter how much both denied the fact. With a slight swish of his wand, he summoned Michael’s old Ancient Runes textbook from the attic.

“I reckon it’s time to polish up your rune reading skills, love.”

***

“Goddamn alarm going off in the middle of the sodding night. No good bloody fucking…” Muttering more profanities, Marcus rolled out bed and landed with a soft thud on the floor. His alarm clock fell on his head, eliciting more curses. Smashing the devil’s contraption until it wasn't anything more than bolts and screws didn’t ease his frustration, though. The evil thing would be whole again by the time he stepped out the shower. But for now, it had to do. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, stop laughing at me!”

It was far too early on Sunday morning for his liking, almost noon according to his alarm clock, and he regretted promising his mum to come back home to Tinworth for lunch. He was just too exhausted, even the prospect of having her fuss over him the whole afternoon couldn’t make him feel any better about it. The match against Puddlemere yesterday had been brutal, leaving him black and blue all over. It was a good thing they won because it wouldn’t have been worth it otherwise. Merlin, it was a good thing that the Quidditch season was almost over because he wasn’t sure how much more he could take.

Although he liked to have his mother to believe that it was, lunch and her unfaltering pampering were not the only reasons he had agreed to come home. He hoped to catch a glimpse of his girlfriend, who he hadn’t seen since Friday. Unlike him and his promises, she hadn’t kept hers to watch him play yesterday. Grace and John were there, even Boy Bell had come, even if it was to ogle Ruckus' niece. But the one person he’d wanted there hadn’t shown up. She hadn’t Floo-called him before or after the match either, nor had she owled him to explain her absence.

Well, that wouldn’t do. He was going to get to the bottom of what had got into her. And maybe, they’d find some alone time for him to get to the bottom of her knickers. That was what he needed to make the day better.

But first, he needed a long hot shower to ease the ache in his muscles.

“No good girlfriends and ditching their-” He forgot what he was grumbling about when he stubbed his toe against the door. Hopping around on one leg, he yelled out, “I said stop laughing!”

In an even fouler mood, he continued his way to the bathroom. The shower was already running, and he was in a heated debate with himself whether to take care of his morning wood before showering or in the shower when a sudden thought hit him. His bushy brows knitted together and he tilted his head, deep in thought.

“Who was laughing?” he mumbled, wracking his brain as he tried to recall if his alarm clock had different alarm tunes. The laughing kind. That or…

“Oh, no.”

He hadn’t brought a bird home, had he? As he hurried back to his bedroom, he went over everything he’d done last night. Played the match, check. Showered and had the club Healer look him over, check. Had a chat with his parents and the Bells, even boy Bell, check. Asked about Katie and got strange looks instead of answers, check. Went home and went to bed, check. No, he couldn’t have picked up a bird. Right?

“Hullo?” he asked as slowly pushed the bedroom door open and peered in. “Someone in there?”

Another round of giggles followed. The girl kind. Had he, after all?

“Who’s there?”

The giggles continued as the lamp on the bedside cupboard lit up. Now there was a sight for sore eyes.

“Katie?” Too surprised by what he was seeing, Marcus came closer. Maybe, he was dreaming because she couldn’t be near starkers in his bed without him having noticed sooner. It had to be a dream. Mesmerised, he sat down at the edge of bed. If it really were one, he’d like to have more of these dreams. He stuck out his index finger and pushed into the soft flesh of her thigh. She didn’t disappear in a puff of smoke.

“You’re real. What are you doing here?”

“Of course, I’m real.” Katie, who sat propped against the pillows, stretched out lazily, her bare breasts bounced along as she did so. “I was waiting for you to wake up. I have something to tell you.” She patted the sheets. “Come lie next to me.”

Marcus was sure that he must have been hit in the head last night. That had to be the explanation for his next words because who in their right mind would turn down their girlfriend when she was all but naked in their bed, wanting them to crawl up next to her. Or, he was just an idiot. That sounded more plausible. “I can’t, Mum’s waiting for me.”

“No, she isn’t. Not yet. You’ve plenty of time.” When he didn’t move, just kept staring at her breasts, Katie sighed deeply and took matters into her own hands by leaning in and taking his face between her hands. “It isn’t even eight o’clock yet. I changed your alarm when you were sleeping. Can you come back into bed now? I’ve something to tell you.”

“No lunch yet?”

“No.”

“Yeah, okay then.” Marcus jumped back into bed and without wasting any time, he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her as close as possible. “You’re real,” he sighed contently as her warm body settled against his. “Why, though?”

“Because I missed you last night-”

“You should’ve come to the match like you promised you would,” he interrupted her.

Katie stared up, frowning. “I was there. By the time I came back from the loo, you were gone.” When he opened his mouth to say something, she placed her finger on his lips. “Don’t say it. I was only gone for five minutes. Sally told me you were so tired that you could barely stand on your legs. Your dad brought you home. Don’t you remember?”

Although he shook no, he vaguely remembered his father undressing him and tucking him in. He was sure that a prickly forehead kiss had been included as well. “Not that I mind having you here, like this, but why are you here? This early, I mean?”

Katie wriggled closer and placed a small kiss on his bare chest. “I’ve figured it out.”

“Figured what out?”

 

“The locket. The box it came in. I know what those runes say.”

Marcus swallowed hard, suddenly as nervous as the morning he’d given it to her. He knew she loved him back; she hadn’t stopped saying since that day. He felt like a dolt for not saying it aloud sooner and making her figure it out by herself. He would’ve been pissed if she’d done it to him.

“I-I love you…” he trailed off. And then after a deep breath, “I really, really do. I should’ve said it sooner. I’m sorry for keeping you waiting.”

“You should be,” Katie quipped as she pulled at the curly hairs on his chest. “You had me doubting for second, you great git. But I’ve figured it out, and you said it now, so you’re forgiven.”

“That easy?”

“Yeah, that easy. That’s why I’m here. To tell you I know, and, uh, talk to you about something.”

Marcus closed his eyes as her hand wandered down his stomach to the waistband of his boxers. The morning erection he had woken up with hadn’t subsided. If anything, he’d grown harder with having her so near. He could use a hand to help him out.

“Talk, love,” he murmured as she finally dipped inside his pants, stroking up and down his shaft. Over the past few months, she’d become almost as good at it as he was.

“I’m ready,” Katie whispered, her warm breath washing over his cold chest.

He was sure that he’d misheard her. “Come again?”

“I’m ready,” she repeated, louder, more convinced. Her confidence was short-lived when Marcus didn’t react as she'd imagined. She tried to detangle from his hold. But as it was, he wasn’t letting go, and her hand was still caught underneath his waistband. “S’okay, I just wanted to you to know. What about some breakfast? Merlin, I’m famished.”

“Katie?”

“No, really, no worries. It’s just- I thought now that-”

“Katie!” Marcus cut her off loudly. “Stop squirming for a sec.”

She immediately stilled and buried her face so deep into his side that he feared that she’d suffocate.

“When you say ready? You mean…” He didn’t need to finish what he was saying for Katie to nod yes. “Also, you mean ready as in right now?”

“Yes,” she squeaked.

He slid down to where she was until they lay nose to nose. Her hair was draped across her face like a veil, shielding her from him. He gently tucked a lock aside, worried that something was wrong. Or worse, that she was already regretting saying anything at all. To his relief, she was smiling underneath all that hair, her cheeks flushed and eyes glistening brightly.

“Are you sure you want this?” he asked quietly.

There was a pause just long enough to make him believe that she was reconsidering, and then she nodded.

“I’m sure,” she whispered as she reached for his lips, her fingertips barely touching. “More than anything in the world.”

He smiled and kissed her fingers, then her hand and her wrist as he laid his hand on her hip and drew her towards him until their lips met. Her lips were cool, and her mouth was hot; her tongue astonishingly active against his. He was sure that for the rest of his life, he’d remember every second – every fraction of a second of that kiss and to what it led to.

Gently and without releasing her lips, he held her closer and turned her until she lay flat on her back. As he pulled back, he couldn’t help the shuddering breath that escaped him at the sight of her. Her dark hair fanned over the white linen, shining in the few rays of sun that spilt in through a gap in the curtains. His heart swelled by the mere look in her brown eyes, the one that said that she adored and loved him, that he meant the world to her, that she trusted him. He could only hope that she knew that he felt the same way about her.

“I love you,” he murmured before he dipped his head again for another kiss. He swore he’d do right by her, make sure that she wouldn’t think that it was only about the sex. He’d show her the stars and the moon; he’d take her to heaven and make sure that she wouldn’t come down any time soon.

He swore that he’d make it memorable for her.

And he did.

***

 

**Five minutes later**

“Thank you.” Katie didn’t look at Marcus as he handed her a wet flannel to clean her stomach. She couldn’t, not yet, not without bursting out into laughter.

“I’m sorry,” he said as he sat down next to her on the edge of the bed.

“For what?” Again, she had to bite the inside of her cheek to keep herself from laughing aloud. It wasn’t funny. Well, maybe a little, but not the let-me-tell-all-my-friends kind of funny. She planned on taking this to her grave. If anyone got wind of it, they wouldn’t let him live it down. That was not how she wanted to remember this morning.

“You know what,” he sourly mumbled as he took the soiled flannel from her and tossed in the direction of the hamper. “It shouldn’t have happened. I got too excited, I guess.”

This time, Katie didn’t try to suppress her smile. Giggling, she wrapped her arms around his neck and planted a quick peck on his temple. “I read that it can happen to the best of men. Don’t worry about it. We’ll try again later, yeah, when, uh, you’re ready. Let’s get under the covers, yeah? I’m getting cold.”

He was still too quiet as he settled behind her, and she was sure that something had changed in the way he held her when he curled his arm around her waist. He didn’t kiss the nape of her neck or fondle her breasts like he usually did. Did sex, or an attempt at having sex, really change a person that much?

“Marcus?”

“Hmmm?”

“Please don’t be upset.” His chuckle in her ear sounded like his old self, as did the soft kiss he placed on the top of her head. Maybe, she was worrying about nothing.

“I’ll get over it.”

“Yeah? When?” She yelped when he squeezed her breast and softly bit down on her shoulder.

“Give me thirty minutes,” he murmured against her skin.

So, she did just that.

***

**An hour later**

“Are you alright?” Marcus asked as he folded Katie in his arms. He hugged her close, feeling her tremble all over, and inhaled the sweet smell of her hair as she buried her face in his chest. “Did I hurt you?”

“No...” She tugged at his arm, telling him he needed to hold her tighter. “Maybe a little. It didn’t last long, though.”

“Are you okay? Really okay?” he asked again as he closed his eyes and prayed to every deity he could think that he’d done it right. But most of all, he needed her to say that she was alright. “You don’t regret it?”

 “No,” she murmured as she looked up. “Never. Do you?”

“Never.” He wanted to say more, explain how he felt, how much she meant to him. It seemed fitting. But he couldn’t find the right words, and what he did come up with sounded too wrong, even to him. So, he settled for the three words he had repeated, chanted in ecstasy, more times in the last thirty minutes than he’d said in his whole life. “I love you, so fucking much.”

Her trembling subsided, and her breathing eased just like his. She became pliable in his arms again, smiling that smile he’d hoped to see. It was the last confirmation he needed that he’d done well.

Still basking in the afterglow, Marcus hummed the strange tune Katie always hummed as his eyes fluttered shut. Although he’d just spilt the last of energy for today, his fantasies ran away with him. The biggest hurdle was out of the way now, and other than his currently flaccid dick, nothing stopped them from doing it again and again. Maybe, if he were lucky, she’d agree to do those things he’d seen in the films on the visiontelly thing.

Katie on her hands and knees whilst he sat behind her, pounding away. Or her on top, riding him like a broom. Oh, oh, maybe she’d tie him up and have her way with him in every way imaginable until he was utterly spent.

“Marcus?”

“Hmmm?”

“If you happen to see my parents today, don’t tell them I was here, 'kay?”

Well, he wasn’t planning on discussing with John or Grace, or anyone else for that matter, the logistics of having Katie over so early in the morning. But outright lying? They had never sneaked around, why start now?

“Why?”

“I told them I was going over to Alicia's to help plan the wedding.” Katie hastily explained how her father had helped her decipher the runes and why. “I just don’t want him to know or get any ideas. It’d be weird.”

“He’s not gonna hear it from me,” Marcus murmured in reply. By the end of the day, John Bell would be the proud owner of a crate of Ogden’s Special Edition; it was the least he could do seeing the man had helped him shag his daughter.

“Marcus?”

Honestly, he couldn’t remember any of the chits in those films talk this much. Why couldn’t she just fall asleep like he was trying to do? It was a good thing that he was smart enough not to say that aloud. “Yes, love?”

“So, I was thinking…” Her hand wrapped around his still sticky cock, squeezing lightly. “Wanna go for another round before you have to leave?”

Marcus glanced down as his now hard dick stared back. Huh, who would’ve thought? Three times in a less than two hours. He felt proud of that.

“Yeah, I’m ready to go.” He flipped her on her back as he licked his lips in hunger. It felt good to have her underneath him but imagined something else feeling equally good, maybe better even. “Say, wanna try something?”

Oh boy, did she ever.


	17. The first time they nearly broke up. Rest assured, though, Katie finally grew up after that unfortunate incident.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My special thanks to the local golden-oldies radio station for playing Toni Braxton's 'Unbreak My Heart' a few weeks ago and inspiring this chapter. I've never liked the song because it's too dramatic for my tastes but it seemed very fitting for the Katie in this fic.
> 
> On another note for those who care: I've finished the final outline for this story and decided that chapter 21 (maybe ch22 as a short epilogue) will be the last one. The outline of that chapter is the most organic way to end this. Will we see K/M as shrivelled old prunes enjoying their retirement? No, the story will end decades before that. It does mean that I'll most probably have to change the title and summary. Oh, well...
> 
> As a teaser for the next chapter: Marcus has something very important to ask.

“Unbreak my heart…” Katie wailed along with the Muggle song as tears streamed down her cheeks in droves. It was ridiculous, really it was, and it should be considered a miracle that she hadn’t died of dehydration yet after the amount fluid she had lost over the last few days. But as it was, she couldn’t’ve stopped even she had wanted to; it was just an unfortunate side effect of what she was going through. “Undo this hurt you caused…”

The lyrics got lost in another round of sobs as she curled up into a ball, clutching Marcus’ framed photograph to her chest. Nothing more than painful memories remained of their epic love. Would the hurt ever stop? 

It was the anniversary of their first date today.

Or rather, it would have been.

It was over.

The love of her life had tossed her aside. She made him do it.

It was over.

He had ripped her heart out, stomped on it, and set it alight turning it into nothing more than dust.

It was over.

The worst part was knowing that she had cocked it up herself.

How was she supposed to breathe again?

***

**A few days earlier**

They say that times flies when you’re having fun, and for Katie that couldn’t have been truer. A few days short from dating a year, her relation with Marcus was going stronger than ever. Especially now that her mother had relented and allowed her to stay overnight at his flat on the weekends, meaning that they rarely ventured out bed on those days. That wasn’t all, of course. They’d made plans to go on holiday to Crete together next month and maybe a mini-holiday to Paris, the city of lurve. And last weekend, after too much wine, they had shyly spoken about how they saw the future, with each other.

Life was good. Life was exciting.

When she wasn’t with Marcus, she was with her friends planning Alicia’s upcoming wedding. It was mostly fun being involved like that, even though Alicia’s nastier side reared its ugly head now and then. You’d think that she was the first witch ever to get married. But it was manageable. Most of all, though, Katie found it a great exercise for when it would be her turn. Not that marriage was something she and Marcus had discussed specifically; it was just something nice to dream about. They’d talked about the future, after all. It was a possibility.

Life was good. Life was exciting. She was ridiculously happy.

Then there was her new job at the Quidditch League Headquarters, which was getting more exciting now that she’d passed her probationary period and she had more work to do than fetching coffee and copying memos. It wasn’t a glamorous job, not yet, but that would come in time. She was sure of it. Until then, she’d show to Mr Bagman how good she was at her job, make sure that he wouldn’t regret giving her chance. She’d put the most logical and well thought-out Amateur League roster together the man had ever seen. And before you’d know it, she would be in his seat. In a few years, five at a max. That seemed like a realistic timeline.

Life was good. Life was exciting. And she was right on track career wise.

Life would be even better, however, if she could do her work on a terrace somewhere, enjoying a cold beer in the sun. If only. It ought to be forbidden to sit in a dusty office when it was such beautiful weather outside. All things considered, it might be the only downside to her job. 

“You alright, love?” Ramona Weatherspoon asked.

Katie was rudely pulled from her daydreams of flying her broom and feeling the cool breeze run through her hair. Composing herself, she turned to her colleague. Ramona, one of her father’s old classmate’s as it turned out and her direct supervisor, observed her with worry written all over her face. She was kind, Katie reckoned, in the aunt that pinched your cheek a tad too hard whilst telling you got fat kind of way. Bracing herself for ‘well-meant’ advice about not daydreaming while working, she flashed the older woman a smile as she ruffled through the parchments on her desk.

“Yeah, I'm okay. I was just thinking about-”

“S’alright, love. I understand,” Ramona cut her off, her voice and expression of understanding and pity. “We’ve all been there at your age. Even at my age it never gets any easier.”

Although Katie thought her colleague was a tad overdramatic, she was glad that’s she wasn’t scolded for dreaming the day away. Better yet, someone understood her troubles. “It’s hard getting used to, y’know, the contrast. The sun is shining and-”

Again, Ramona didn’t let her finish. “I know, I know,” she said as she clutched her hands to her chest and let out a deep, deep sigh. “The world is bright and colourful and warm, and everyone seems just so happy while you’re here, in the cold depths of darkness and desperation.”

Well, there was an exaggeration if Katie had ever heard one. She wasn’t sure what she was supposed to say to that. Not being able to fly her broom wasn’t the end of the world Ramona was making it out to be. She still was going to do so after work, after all.

“But it’ll pass, sweetheart, I promise.” Ramona plucked a few tissues from the box on her desk and dabbed her eyes. “You should have stayed home today. I wouldn’t have minded.”

Katie scowled at hearing that because she’d tried to take this week off last week when the first rumours of perfect summer weather had begun. The old hag had been the reason Mr Crouch had denied her request and reprimanded her, stating that she couldn’t take the day off every time the sun was shining. Hearing the opposite just a week later stung a little. 

“I think your mum would love to have you home, pampering you a little,” Ramona rambled on, sniffling and dabbing her eyes some more. “That’s what us mothers do, take care of our babies when they need us the most.”

“My mum?” Katie snorted at the mere suggestion. “Last summer-”

“The Rita Skeeter article,” Ramona breathed as if something clicked in her head.

“Yeah, that summer.” Katie frowned as she wondered what that old beetle and her nonsensical scribblings had to do with anything. “Anyway, I wanted to stay home once because it was a day like today, and she just laughed at me and told me to stop being a whiner and get my bum over to the butchery.”

No, there was no way her mother would allow her to skive off a day of work just to go the beach with her friends. Or with Marcus. Hmm, lying on the beach and rubbing oil all over him sounded like a great plan. Maybe, this weekend, for their anniversary she’d take him to that secluded part of the beach Angie used to take Fred to for some alone time. 

“She probably meant well, to distract you. The best way to get over a heartbreak is to keep yourself busy, after all.”

“Wot?” Were they talking about the weather at all? “What heartbreak?”

Ramona’s lips quivered as she stood up and walked over to Katie, pulling her up from her chair for a bone-crushing hug. “I’m so sorry, love. I saw him yesterday with her. What an arsehole he is to move on that quickly. It isn’t you, never think that. Most Quidditch players are pigs, chasing easy witches. If you’ve been here for as long as I have, you’ll know what I mean. Those cads deserve those vault-digging, brainless tarts. She looked like one.”

Katie wrestled herself free and hastily took a step back before Ramona could wrap her into another firm embrace. “What are you on about? You saw who with who?”

“You and that Flint boy, you’re broken up, aren’t you?” Seeing Katie shake her head in denial, Ramona slowly lowered her arms. “You’re not? But I thought…” she trailed off and hastily scurried to her desk.

“Of course, we’re not. Why would you think that?” Katie pressed.

“I- I thought I saw him last night. At the Prancing Pixy,” Ramona mumbled as she pulled the parchments she’d been working on earlier closer to her. “Must be mistaken.”

“Yeah, you must be. You forgot your glasses again?” Katie chuckled as she plopped back down in her chair. Marcus with another girl, he’d never. “He was feeling a bit under the weather last night and went to bed early. I tucked him in myself.”

“Of course, it must've been my glasses,” Ramona muttered and reached out to her spectacles in her hair, flashing Katie a tight smile. “Never mind me, love. So, how’s that roster coming along?”

Still chuckling at her colleague’s mistake, Katie set out to work. Maybe, she ought to Floo-call Marcus after work and tell him all about it. Or better yet, she’d drop by his flat and surprise him after having dinner with the girls tonight. She was sure that he’d laugh as much as her after she told him all about her barmy colleague and her even barmier stories. That should make him feel better.

But first, she had to make it through the day. Merlin, was she allowed to go home already?

***

It was strange how much life could change within a year, Katie mused as she listened to Alicia talk non-stop about which patterns she wanted to be imprinted on her wrist after the handfasting ritual she and Terence had decided on. When she wasn’t talking about that, she was hammering about which colours her bridesmaids needed to wear, something that tended to change every other week, or the style of the seat covers or the centrepieces that her future mother-in-law insisted on but clashed with all the aforementioned. Her friend had gone from being an Apothecary apprentice and bemoaning her boring life and fearing that she’d die an old spinster to becoming a spoilt bride to one of the most handsome wizards that currently roamed Diagon Alley. 

Life was strange. 

Blinking the tears of boredom from her eyes, Katie turned her attention to the mostly-empty pub. Although she understood Alicia’s need to go somewhere quiet where they could discuss the wedding plans in peace, she couldn’t understand that her friend had chosen this place. The Crusty Hide was just that, a grimy old pub where your shoes stuck to the floor and your arms to the table. Ages old stench, a mixture of stale booze and smoke and most porbably vomit, had embedded itself in the walls, seemingly emitting a puff of the foulest odour known to men every other minute. Katie was sure that she’d need a good scrubbing and an hour-long soak in a scorching hot bath once she got home.

Across the table from her, Angelina let out a deep growl and dropped her head in her hands when Alicia changed her mind on the colours for the umpteenth time. Swallowing down another yawn, Katie averted her head. 

“Oi, pay attention, this crucial,” Alicia snapped and pushed another pile of wedding magazines in her direction. It must be perfect, understand? I only get married once.”

“You better, I don’t think I’d survive planning another one,” Angelina muttered from behind her hands.

Alicia huffed and crossed her arms. “You just wait. I’d like to see you handling all this when Graham pops the question.”

“Knock on wood.” Angelina lifted her head a little, clearly grimacing. “Unlike you, I’d like to date a while first before jumping head first into marriage.”

“So, what are you saying? You think we’re moving too fast?” Alicia jutted her nose high in the air, daring her friends to agree.

“Gods, not again,” Angie groaned and dropped her head back into her hands and kicked Katie under the table. “Help me out here.”

Of course, Katie had the perfect solution to fix the tension. “More beer! We’re too sober for this. I’ll get us another around.”

Before the girls could agree or protest, she slid off her chair and rushed to the bar. She needed a small break. As the barmaid fixed her order in a snail’s pace, she rested her elbows on the bar, and glanced around a bit. Two old witches were sitting at a table by the door sipping from their cordials and smoking a pipe. A goblin was grumbling about Galleons at the end of the bar. In a darkened alcove, Marcus was sitting with a stunning blonde witch. A group of wizards played cards…

Wait a minute.

“Marcus?” Katie muttered and rubbed her eyes with the heels of her hands, sure that she was seeing things. No, he was still there. “But you’re sick…”

To be fair, he didn’t look all that fresh, but still. Why was here instead of in his bed, waiting for her? Most importantly, why was he with her, whoever that was. She didn’t want to, but her feet had a mind of their own and forced her to come closer, to see better, to hear what they’re were whispering about. It didn’t make her feel any better, though. The woman was beautiful from a distance, and she only got more beautiful from up close. With her long wavy blonde hair and the brightest blue eyes that Katie had ever seen, she was the kind of woman you’d find in those fancy magazines about how a proper witch ought to look like. 

Katie couldn’t remember Marcus having a friend of the female kind. Nor was the woman a teammate; she knew them all by now. A lump formed in her throat even though she refused to believe that he was up to no good. He wouldn’t; he wasn’t the sort to do such things. Then Ramona’s words came back, and how she’d thought that they were broken up because Marcus had been with someone else last night. Had her colleague been right after all?

Her feet stopped moving less than two metres from their table, and Marcus still hadn’t noticed her. He was too busy whispering to his new friend between coughing and wiping his nose. Katie had always told herself that she wouldn’t be one of those overly dramatic girlfriends that threw tantrums before figuring what was going on. That resolution flew out the window when the woman squealed at something Marcus said and wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him. On his cheek, but that was neither here or there. What hurt the most, though, was the half grin on his face. He was supposed to push her off, scold her for kissing a taken man, not grin like an arsehole.

In hindsight, Katie reckoned that she should have done the adult thing and stayed, demanding answers. If it been any of her friends who did what she was about to do, she would have told them to witch up and face their problems head on. That would have been the appropriate, grown-up thing to do. Even jinxing the two would have been better. But as it was, Katie wasn’t quite there yet, not for a little while longer. Her penchant for the dramatics she had thought to have reined in took over, and instead of marching up to the table and demand answers, she turned on her heels. But not before choking out, 

“Bastard!”

“Oh fuck, Katie, wait!” was the last thing she heard as she tumbled out the door into Diagon Alley and Apparated home with a loud, rumbling crack.

Inside, her two friends watched the commotion with interest as they munched on peanuts and sipped from the beers Alicia had snatched from the bar because it took Katie too long to bring it to them. 

“Oh, _that’s_ what’s going on. Should we tell her?” Angie asked when a murderous looking Flint barged back into the pub with a familiar face hot on his heels.

“No,” Alicia answered as she craned her neck to see what Flint was up to next. Her lips curled up into a smug grin at seeing him work up a storm, which would’ve been impressive if he hadn’t burst out in a bout of unending sneezed midway through. “I reckon it’s for the best to stay out of this one.”

***

**Back to Unbreak My Heart**

“Uncry these tears,” Katie wailed up in her room, scaring the handful of owls sitting on her windowsill. 

Downstairs, her parents groaned in despair. Not only by their daughter’s shrill wails, or because they were forced to listen to the godforsaken song more times than they cared for, or because they were worried about her, which they were. Their groans were caused by the longs streaks of owl droppings splashing up against the windowpanes as the birds flew off in fright. 

“I’m not cleaning that up,” John grumbled as he tapped his wand against his ear for the umpteenth time to drown out the dying-cat-like noises from upstairs. To no avail, unfortunately; Katie’s voice still penetrated through the various layers of Muting Charms. His fingers tightly curled around the wood when a particularly shrill line cut through the magic.

“…is so cruel without you here beside meeeeeee!”

“I’ll do it,” Grace muttered, rubbing her temples. “The noise isn’t that bad outside.”

They listened for a few minutes longer how Katie sang - -yelled, or whatever the head splitting sound was called. The song ended, and they were awarded a few seconds of peaceful bliss before it would inevitably restart again. If only they could make it stop forever. 

They’d tried talking to her, of course, figure out what in Merlin’s name was going on, but hadn’t gone far information wise. All they knew was that somehow the world had ended the night she went out with her friends, and it was all Marcus’ fault. No explanation to the what and the why. And all the Flints knew was that their son was as sick as a dog and refusing to talk to anyone. Aside from his friends, apparently, who had donated their spare owls to him. The ones that were currently shitting on the Bells’ windows. 

“Do you hear that?” John suddenly asked. 

“No, what?”

“ _That!_ ”

Grace, who was sipping her coffee, glanced up at the ceiling. Sure that she was mistaken, she slowly lowered her mug, tilting her head. After being forced to listen non-stop to the song for the last three days, eighteen hours a day, the silence was almost deafening. “It can’t be. How?”

“I don’t know and don’t care. Enjoy it while it lasts, love.”

***

“Sissy?”

“Leame ‘lone,” Katie sobbed, hurt by another betrayal. She couldn’t handle her brother on top of that.

Life was miserable, and she got more than her share. First with Marcus deserting her and now this. How was she supposed to get through the day without hearing Toni express her utter sadness so perfectly? None of the buttons worked, no matter how hard she pushed them or shook the metallic box.

Life hated her. That had to be it Katie mused as she sat on her knees in front of the ancient cd-player she’d nicked off her grandmother last year. Since Bell cottage wasn’t connected to the Muggle electricity network, her father had put complex charms on it to make it work. And it had, until now because the universe hated her that much. She had already lost Marcus; she couldn’t stand to lose Toni as well. The Muggle singer needed to unbreak her heart for her.

“I can fix that for you if you want.”

That was a new one. Katie quickly glanced over her shoulder as she wiped her nose and cheeks on her sleeve. She’d expected Michael to gloat, grin like mad at her heartbreak, but he wasn’t. If anything, he looked worried as he stood there in the door opening, anxiously wringing his hands. “ _Fix it_ fix it or fix it in a way it’ll kill me in my sleep kind of fix it?”

“Have a little faith in me, Sis, I haven’t done something like that in years,” Michael rebutted. Seeing the scowl on his sister’s face, he cleared his throat and vaguely pointed in the direction of the Muggle contraption. “So, uhm, do you want me to? It’s the easiest way to get rid of me.”

Katie shrugged as she pressed buttons and shook the device back and forth. Of course, nothing happened. “Is this a trick to get me talking? If it is, you can tell Mum to mind her own sodding business.”

“No! No, I don’t care why you’re sobbing. Honest,” Michael rushed to answer. It wasn’t enough to convince Katie, though. He had to try a different tactic. “It got too quiet, so I thought I’d check you didn’t die or something. Do you want me to fix it?”

“Do you know how?”

“Of course, I do. If Dad can do it, I certainly can,” Michael lied. He was beside her in two long strides and dropped to his knees, pushing her aside. “Let me have a look.”

Katie wanted to protest but seeing him whip out his wand and wave it about, calmed her somewhat. Her brother always knew what he was doing; if someone could save Toni, it was him. Bright spells enveloped the cd-player as he muttered elaborate spells she didn’t understand and that was reassuring because Micky was a genius, after all. It would have been strange to hear him use everyday charms.

“What’s wrong with it, can you tell?”

Michael muttered something under his breath about leaving him alone for a sec so he could fix things. She didn’t, of course, and peered over his shoulder to study his every move and memorise the spells he was muttering in case the cd-player gave out again.

“Can you give a hand?” he suddenly asked after a few minutes. He pointed at the power button in the left corner. “Put your finger on it. I need to redirect the charms so they’ll work properly.”

“You want _me_ to help _you_?” The world must have truly gone mad if Micky had to turn to her to assist him. Katie couldn’t remember the last time that had happened, if ever. Seeing him nod in confirmation made her momentarily forget the hurt and misery she had wallowed in the past few days and tentatively crouched closer to do as he asked. “Like this?”

“No, uh, more like this.” He grabbed her wrist and forced her palm straight against the device. “No worries, Sis, I’m coming along for the ride.”

She should have known that he had something up his sleeve. Some things never changed.

“Oh, Micky, no,” was the last thing Katie said, more like groaned in annoyance, as a jolt of energy ran up her arm and through her body as the makeshift Portkey transported them out the room.

***

Michael was a dead man for doing this to her.

She was going to skin him alive for kidnapping her by Portkey.

She was going to hunt him down and pull his nails out one by one for taking her to the Leaky Cauldron dressed in her pyjamas. The one she’d been wearing for the last three days. Without showering. 

She was going to tie him up and pour Veritaserum down his throat and force him to tell her his deepest, darkest secrets and then use them against him. How, she wasn’t sure yet, but he was going to pay for doing this to her. If only she had her wand with her.

She’d transfigure him into a bug and step on him.

“C’mon, we’re late already,” Michael interrupted Katie’s plans for revenge as he pushed the door to the pub open and dragged her in by her arm. 

“No,” Katie growled as she tried to yank herself free. “I wanna go home.”

“Yeah, yeah, later. First, we have to do this.” Michael dragged her along, unfazed by her wriggling or crude curses.

Realising that resistance was futile, she ducked her head and allowed her brother to lead her. The wooden floorboards passed at high speed as he manoeuvred around tables and chairs to get where he needed to go. To her relieve, it _sounded_ as if the pub was deserted. Other than Tom greeting them, she hadn’t heard people talk or laugh or anything. Then again, it could be wishful thinking on her end seeing that she was too embarrassed to lift her head for a quick look around. 

Even when Michael suddenly halted by a table, she kept her head down, studying her pink bunny slippers. And just like that, tears pricked her eyes again. Marcus had given them to her last Christmas, and they meant as much to her as the necklace because _he_ gave them to her. Did he keep the gifts she'd bought him and the scarf she’d knitted or had he tossed them in the bin already? 

“Sit down,” Michael hissed in her ear as he pulled out a chair for her and himself. It was a good thing that he sounded impatient with her. His tone and the memory of what he’d done to her just now pissed her off enough to forget her hurting heart and head. 

“I’m telling Dad dragged me out the house,” she snapped back as she plopped down. Their father would know what to do with Micky, especially when she’d tell him that she’d been half-dressed. It was the truth, after all, in a roundabout way. “Mum won’t save you this time.”

People chuckling across the table startled her, and she quickly ducked her head again. Oh, Micky was dead, he was, in more ways than possible. Still, curious about who they were sharing a table with, she glanced up from underneath her lashes and wished she hadn’t. 

The blonde witch Marcus had deceived her with was there, smiling kindly and looking as perfect as the last time Katie had seen her. She wasn’t alone, though. Marcus was sitting next to her with his hair sticking out every direction, his cheeks flushed and nose red. He was glancing at her, Katie, with glassy eyes from underneath his lashes in the same way she was. Feeling caught, she dropped her gaze to the table for a second before resuming her staring. Although it hurt to see him with _her_ , the fact that he wore that ratty jumper with the holes in the armpits and the torn hems he only wore to bed made her feel a little better. It seemed as if she wasn’t the only one abducted. 

Then again, for him to be here like that must mean the woman had come close enough to touch him, or at least hand him the Portkey - -if they used that, and have her hands on him to go on the ride together. 

“Arsehole,” Katie muttered barely audible and crossed her arms as a dark scowl deformed her face. If they had brought her here to rub her loss in her face, they’d another thing coming. Micky wouldn’t mind lending her his wand, would he?

“So, I’m sure you two are wondering why we brought you here,” the man in question began carefully. “Let’s start with the introductions. Katie, this is Eloise. She moved to London from Germany a few months ago. Eloise, this is my sister, Katie.”

Michael grabbed Katie’s wrist when she tried to snatch his wand from his waistband, shaking his head in warning. He, too, was branded an arsehole for thwarting her plans. 

“Hello, Katie, it's nice to finally meet you. Micky and Marcus told me so much about you.” Eloise pulled her hand back when Katie mere glared at it and glanced at Michael in askance. Seeing him nod in encouragement, she cleared her throat and continued. “I guess, you’re wondering who I am?”

The ‘slag’ she wanted to say died in Katie's throat when Michael squeezed her wrist again in warning. 

“My full name is Eloise Ruckus. Maybe that sounds familiar?” 

“Yes,” was her short answer. Was that how Marcus had met her, through the team manager? Katie glanced at him, searching for something to disprove or confirm her newest theory. There was nothing here. He had buried his head in the nook of his elbow on the table, coughing like a stranded kelpie. 

“Uncle Phineas is, well, my uncle and he agreed to let me live with him for the time being before I start teaching Arithmancy at Hogwarts come September,” Eloise explained further.

Beautiful and smart and from a Quidditch family; Katie felt her self-confidence drop a few notches. How was she supposed to compete with that?

“We met at the match against Puddlemere a few months ago,” Michael took over from Eloise. “After you went home early because Flint- uhm, Marcus here left without you? Anyway, we’re dating. I reckoned you should know that.”

Katie snapped her head up, confused. Eloise was dating Micky _and_ Marcus? As in, the three of them? She must’ve voiced that part aloud because her brother looked horrified and Marcus made retching sounds, which resulted in a hard slap on his shoulder and a hissed ‘behave’ from Eloise. 

“Oi, don’t do that. He’s sick,” Katie snapped. Then she remembered that she shouldn’t stick up for Marcus before someone had explained to her what the bleeding hell was going on, and focussed on her brother. “What’s going on?”

“Remember when Dad used to tell about those old-fashioned Pureblood families and how we used to laugh about it? Like your friend Alicia’s dad, and those ridiculous rules and traditions they have in place.” He flashed Eloise a broad smile when she kicked him under the table, scowling furiously at the name calling. “Well, it turns out that Mister Ruckus and Eloise’s family, uh, they also live by those traditions, and ah…”

“And what, Micky?” Katie asked when he decided that pressing his thumbnail into the wood of the tabletop was more important than finishing his story.

“Good God, man, spit it out already,” Marcus suddenly spoke up in a raspy voice. At Michael’s raised brows, he merely rolled his eyes and leant over the table, to Katie. “They’re dating, but can’t go out or be alone without a chaperone. They need me for that. I’ve been doing that since the end of the season because Ruckus ordered me to. He ordered me to because this sodding dolt over here is your brother. He said he’d kick me off the team if I refused and he’ll kick me off the team if anything more than holding hands happens.”

“Oh,” was all Katie said as she let the words sink in. Well, that was embarrassing. 

“Her kissing me, my cheek if I might add, was because I offered to let them have some alone time in flat. I was planning on staying with my Mum and Dad for a few days with me being sick and all. And you would’ve been close,” Marcus quietly added the last part as he dropped his head back in his elbow again, coughing. 

“Oh, why didn’t I know this sooner?” 

“I asked him to keep quiet about it. We just wanted some privacy first. You know, to see where it’d go,” Michael said and he abruptly stood up, cocking his head at Eloise to move a table. “Why don’t we give you kids some alone time. I’m sure you have a lot to talk about,”

The silence that fell over them as her brother and his apparent girlfriend left felt heavy, suffocating almost. There were many things Katie wanted to say but wasn’t sure where or how to begin. It would be so much easier if Marcus just looked at her, or better yet, starting talking first. He didn’t do either of those things. As the minutes ticked away, the flicker of hope that he would, died down. Behind Marcus, Micky and Eloise sat with their foreheads pressed, smiling and hold hands on the tabletop. It wasn’t fair; she and Marcus were supposed to be sitting like that. Not _those_ two. 

“I’m sorry for overreacting,” she blurted out when the silence became too much. Reaching over the table, she tried to grab his hand but only grazed the skin. Dammit, why couldn’t move his hand a bit closer or look at her? And why wasn’t he telling that it was okay, and they were fine again? Had she cocked up beyond repair? “Marcus?”

No reaction.

“Marcus!”  


He snapped his head up, blinking rapidly. “Huh, what?” 

“Were you sleeping?” It would’ve been insulting if he hadn’t looked like death on socks. 

“No… maybe… I’m tired. Sick,” he grumbled and yawned for good measure. “Can we go home now? I need chicken soup.”

Katie wasn’t sure she understood him correctly. She hoped that she had but better than safe than sorry, right? “As in you and I go home? You’re not mad at me?”

“Too sick to stay mad,” he answered quietly, his eyes drooping already. “I’ve missed you and I like your soup better. Don’t tell Mum I said that.”

That was all she needed to hear, asking for more would be pushing her luck, Katie decided. She was by his side in the blink of an eye, hoisting him up to his legs. She couldn’t stop smiling as she wrapped her arm around his waist. And why should she? Life was good again. She’d nurse him back to health so she could properly make up to him. There were already a few ideas floating through her head. But first, he needed soup and cold flannels on his forehead. Her poor baby was burning up. 

“Let’s get you home.”

Life was good again. Toni had unbroken her heart.

“Hey, come back here!” Michael bellowed as they shuffled towards the fireplace to Floo to Marcus’ flat. “You can't leave us alone in public. Flint!”

Neither Katie or Marcus paid him any heed. They had an anniversary to celebrate.

Life was good.

And life would be a whole lot better once Katie thought of ways to torture Michael for putting her through misery for the past three days without saying a word and then dragging her out the house.

A little voice in her head said that Marcus probably wouldn’t mind giving her a hand.


	18. The first Marcus had an important question to ask. It took him a few weeks to do so, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My apologies for the delay, but an emergency kept me from my personal laptop for the past few days.  
> FYI- just a few more chapters left for these two.

Autumn thunder rumbled whilst torrential showers cleansed the London streets from the dirt that had accumulated during an unusually dry summer. October had started with tumultuous weather, dipping Britain from one extreme to the other, and this Sunday evening wasn’t any different. Whilst muggles and a few magical folk alike worried about the potential ramifications of such inclement weather, it was nothing but a minor inconvenience for the young couple cuddling in bed. They were warm, dry, and comfortable in each other’s arms; the outside world could fall apart, and they’d be none the wiser.

But, alas, sooner or later even the best things had to come to an end. In this case, Grace Bell and her wagging finger put a stop to an utterly relaxed weekend, much to Marcus’ chagrin. 

The old clock in the living room chimed ten in the evening; after three too short days together, the time for Katie to go home had come once again. As lightning illuminated the dimly lit room through a crack in the curtains, she quietly slid out of bed, careful not to wake up Marcus. Although the effort was appreciated, he was already wide awake. 

With his bottom lip stuck out in a pout and eyes narrowed in annoyance, he watched Katie scour the room to find her clothes, which he had skilfully hidden over the past three days. Unfortunately, the knowledge that she wouldn’t find them easily, thus leading her to be with him longer than anticipated, did not elevate his foul mood. Watching her trudge around starkers didn't help either. If anything, it irked him that she didn’t seem to mind that she had to go home because her mum had told her so. You’d think that a witch of almost twenty-two-years-old would be considered old enough to decide where she spends the night. Just to be clear, that would be with him, her boyfriend of over three years, of course.

“Don’t go.” It came out whiny and made him sound like a spoilt little boy who wanted to have his way without any regard to the feasibility of his demands. That’s why it was a good thing that it was nothing but a mere whisper, muffled by the blankets pulled up to his ears. 

Still, Katie must have heard something.

“I know you’re awake.”

Feeling caught, Marcus shut his eyes and pretended to snore, loudly. It didn’t trick Katie, though.

“Stop pretending, you git, and tell me where my clothes are.”

He cracked one eye open and then the other. Katie, still starkers, stood by the foot end, hands on her hips. Maybe, if he played his cards right, he’d be able to make her change her mind.

“Your clothes. How am I supposed to know that?” He flashed her a broad grin as he lifted the blanket and patted the mattress. “Besides, you don’t need them here, love. I mean, I can warm you up if you’re cold.”

Despite her huffing and puffing and rolling her eyes at the suggestion, Marcus believed that he had convinced her when she suddenly dropped to her knees. Any minute now, she’d crawl into the bed like a Kneazle on the prowl, slowly licking and biting her way up, teasing him until he had no other choice than to show her what she would have been missing out on had she gone home. He was sure of it. Unfortunately, his fantasies were brutally interrupted when she jumped up again, twirling his wand between her fingers.

“Katie, don't,” Marcus groaned, but it was too late.

“ _Accio_ my clothes and wand!”

Drawers and cupboard doors slammed open, and various garments flew through the room. Even the pile of knickers Marcus had stored underneath the mattress for safekeeping over the past few months came out, the force nearly throwing him off the bed. The flurry stopped when Katie's blue leather bag that he had hidden in the hamper in the bathroom zoomed into the room and dropped by her feet, her wand on top of it. 

“Oh, you mean _those_ clothes.” 

“Yeah, those. Honestly, Marcus, what’s got into you?” Katie grumbled as she quickly got dressed. “Mum’s gonna have another fit if I miss curfew again.”

Marcus shrugged uncaringly and returned to his pouting and staring at the ceiling as he pulled up the blankets back up to his chin. And to think that he’d liked Grace once. These days, the old hag was responsible for ruining his happiness. She was even worse than his dad on a good day. 

“Well? Aren’t you gonna answer me?”

He wanted to guilt her into staying, snap at her for leaving him and tell her to hurry and go home to her mummy. And he would have said such things aloud not all too long ago. But, just as it was with Katie, he too had matured since they’d first started dating more than three years ago. So, to keep the peace, he practised a newly learnt skill - - approach the issue with a cool head and reason and more of such rubbish. 

“You’ve been here all weekend already, love, what’s another night? You can visit parents tomorrow after work.”

“Visit? Home, Marcus, I’m going _home_ ,” Katie said groaning as she shoved the last of her clothes into the bag. “ _Visiting_ is what I do when I come to see you. I can’t stay here forever.”

“Why not? Because your mummy said so?” 

Katie froze for a minute, the expression on her face promised a sound telling off for saying such a thing. But something must have made her change her mind because, in the end, her shoulders dropped in resignation. She picked up her shoes and walked around to bed and plopped down next to him. 

“Yeah, that’s why. Dad says she’s become insufferable because she misses me. And Micky too if you can believe that. I want her to feel better. If me being home more often helps, I'll do that.”

“What about Michael? Tell him to visit her. Why should you be the only one giving into your mum and dad's demands? C'mon love, tell them to sod it for tonight and stay here.” Marcus crossed his fingers, hoping that he’d convinced her.

No such luck, unfortunately.

Katie placed a quick peck on his forehead, her hand on his cheek. The small smile that played on her lips said enough.

“I still live there. With Mum and Dad. And that means, their house, their rules until I move out.”

Marcus was sure that there was more she wanted to say and he swore that he’d agree with anything, as long as she stayed the night. Nothing else was said, however, and after a wistful sigh, Katie turned to put on her shoes.

If he had to be reasonable about it, Marcus knew that she wasn’t leaving him. He’d see her again tomorrow evening for dinner after all. But since Grace had insisted that Katie needed to adhere to the rules set more than two years ago, his girl wouldn’t warm his bed again until Friday night. Not having her by his side for the better part of the week had already pushed him into withdrawal. The side-effects were causing him some serious issues, affecting his performance during practises and matches, which led to Ruckus breathing down his neck more than usual and working him into exhaustion. Monday mornings were the worst because he rarely slept a wink the night before, and that was because sleep didn't come easily without Katie's warm body wrapped around him. 

 

Marcus savoured their last kiss for the night as if it was the last one he'd ever get in this lifetime. AfterKatie forcefully pried his arms off when he wouldn't let her go, he watched her leave with pain in his heart and an empty spot in his bed. How he hated this part. How was he supposed to fall asleep without her curled up around him and humming in his ear? He wanted her to stay with him, their flat, forever and ever. 

Another lightning bolt illuminated the room, soon followed by loud thunder that made the whole flat shake. As the windows rattled in their frames and various alarms began wailing in the distance, an idea formed in Marcus’ mind. 

_Their flat._

"Of course!" he exclaimed as he shot upright in bed.

It was the most natural step to take, a simple solution for their utterly frustrating problem. All he needed was to figure out the best way to go about it. And who better than his father to help him out?

***

Let the records show that William Flint loved his all his children more than he loved life itself. If you were to press him hard enough, however, he’d begrudgingly admit that Marcus held a special place in his heart. Like with any parent, he was already proud of his son for merely existing. But adding the boy’s achievements, tenacity, and his Quidditch talents that had brought him fame and fortune to the equation, that simple, natural pride rose to peacock-pride level. 

Until Will's last breath, Marcus would stay his baby, the last child his Sally had born him. The boy was his heir, the one to carry on the Flint name with pride and dignity. He’d give his son the clothes off his back and the food from his plate if that was what it took to keep him happy and healthy. He’d die a thousand deaths for his son, and do it all over again in a heartbeat.

Today, however, Will didn’t feel any of those sentiments. In fact, he was quite close to throttling Marcus with his bare hands. 

“So, who’s Fluffy?” 

Will’s chisel and hammer froze mid-air as he counted to ten. There was a reason he preferred to work alone. He hated when people lurked over him, interrupting his concentration with their inane blathering and stupid questions. Sally and the girls knew better than to bother him in his workshop. Why hadn't Marcus learnt that yet? And why the hell was peering over his shoulder, so close that he could feel his hot breath wash over him each time he exhaled? 

“Daddy?”

_Daddy._ It told Will all he needed to know. 

“One of Hagrid’s pets. It died.” Emphasising the last part shouldn’t have been necessary seeing that he was making a memorial for the animal, but Will wanted to make sure that Marcus wouldn’t ask anyway. You’d never know with that boy.

“Oh, makes sense, I guess. So, was it that unsightly or have you mucked up?”

Will had to remind himself that he loved his son. He really, really did. Marcus was his heir, the only male Flint left to carry on their ancient name. That used to hold some importance in the olden days.

“What do you think?” 

“I- I think it was already ugly,” Marcus answered unconvinced after a too long silence.

Will slowly let out a tortured breath and put his tools back into use as Marcus resumed whatever it was he was doing behind his back. He could’ve charmed his tools to do the work on their own, but that would've meant watching Marcus pace up and down the shop until he was ready to spit out what had crawled up his arse. Will preferred to stay busy until that time came. 

“What else are you working on?”

“A few tombstones.” _And yours will be next_ Will wanted to add but thought better of it. Before you knew it, the boy would go cry to his mum and Sally’d make him sleep on the sofa again for hurting Marcus' feelings. Will reckoned that his body was getting too old to sleep on the sofa.

“Oh, who-” 

“No one you’d know,” Will interrupted him impatiently. “Older Muggles from Glennworth.”

“Oh, right, Muggles.” 

There was a moment of silence before the footsteps stopped right behind Will and once again, he felt his son’s warm breath wash over him.

“So, ah, Daddy, when are you taking a break?”

Will stopped what he was doing and glanced over his shoulder, his expression one of exasperation. Marcus stood close, too close, grinning nervously and batting his lashes like his sisters used to do, still did actually. The boy wanted something, that much was clear. The question was how grave was the situation but mostly, did he care to hear about it?

Of course, he did. 

“I guess I’m taking one now.”

***

“So,” Will began, his brows raised and hands folded on the desk. In the last twenty minutes, he’d eaten his mid-morning sandwich, drank two cups of extra strong coffee, and even took another order for a tombstone. Marcus, on the other hand, hadn’t lifted his gaze from his fidgeting hands in his lap or uttered a word. To the boy's credit, he did open his mouth every other second, but nothing sensible came out. It would have been amusing if it hadn’t been infuriating. 

“Good Gods, son, spit it out already.”

Marcus nodded and instead of spilling his woes (because let’s be honest, what else could it be), he began humming an off-key tune. It did nothing to help Will keep a cool head.

“You have ten seconds to tell me why you’re bothering _me_ instead of your mum before I kick your arse back to London.”

It had the desired effect; Marcus blinked rapidly, clearly upset by the threat of possibly being tossed out. He cleared his throat one last time and then, finally, began talking. “I, ah, no Mum. I want to ask you something.”

“Yeah, I reckoned that much. What is it?” Will shook his head when Marcus dropped his gaze again. Where had he gone wrong with him, he wondered ruefully. His girls never had trouble with putting their thoughts into words. Heavens, it was a chore to get them to think first and talk later or even have them shut up for a few seconds. It was an endless stream of words whenever they got together. “Just say it, son, it can’t be that bad.”

“It’s not bad, honest. I, ah, I just want to ask you something.” Marcus gulped hard when he finally lifted his eyes to his father, his voice pleading when spoke again. “But first, uhm… Please promise me that you won’t tell me stuff about Mum’s knickers.”

“…your mum’s…” Will snorted, which he badly camouflaged as a cough, and merely nodded in agreement. Several thoughts swirled through his mind. Since Marcus mentioned Sally’s knickers and reminded him of their last heart to heart, it could only mean that the boy had troubles in the bedroom again. 

It was a worrying thought; Will couldn’t think of a single Flint man having those kinds of problems this often, and he knew all his forefathers’ issues. Those were well documented for posterity’s sake because that’s what the Flint men did. All things considered, this could only mean one thing; there was more of his wife’s Rookwood genes in their son than he’d thought, which was a disturbing thought.

“S’okay, son, I promise, no mentions of your mum’s knickers. Just tell me what’s bothering you. I’ll help you where I can; you know that,” he said empathically, hoping that he wouldn’t be required to stand next to the bed to coach him. Something like that hadn’t happened since Great-great-great-grandfather Thaddeus Flint had been forced to help one of his sons ‘perform’ during his wedding night because the man had been as clueless as the backside of a Flobberworm. Suffice it to say that part of the family had gone extinct early on.

Marcus took another deep breath as he rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands. When he began talking, the look of worry on Will’s face slowly changed from concern to confusion to one of big surprise and happiness. In fact, he hadn't felt this overjoyed since Lizzie's elopement and all the monies it had saved him.

Once it was Will’s turn to talk and answer Marcus’ urgent inquiry, which turned out to be more longwinded than he’d initially anticipated, he had trouble maintaining dry eyes and blamed it to their dusty surroundings. To Marcus’ relief, he even managed to keep the story quite clean, omitting the key reason for facing a very short-tempered Gaius Rookwood right after taking his last NEWT. It didn’t matter anyway. 

All that mattered was that his baby had finally grown up. The little boy that had once fit in the palms of his hands was ready to take the next step. Sally was going to a blubbering mess when he told her tonight.

***

“Is he there yet?” asked Sally. She was sitting at the kitchen table, her leg nervously bopping up and down as she tried to decide whether to weep uncontrollably at the imminent loss of her youngest or laugh like a madman because her masterplan was reaching its climax. 

“Not yet,” Ellie answered as she pushed Lizzie aside to have a better look through the small kitchen window, which resulted in a sharp kick in the shins in return.

“Are you sure he’s gonna do it today?” Lexie asked as she jumped up and down to see over her struggling sisters. “Shouldn’t Dad accompany him, show them the betrothal gifts stored at Gringotts?”

“Betrothal gifts? Have you been reading those cheap romance novels again?” Mary asked her sister. “How Pureblooded do you think we are, you bint?”

“Oh, shut up, let a girl dream, yeah? Daddy, are you sure?”

“I’m sure,” Will answered confidently. “A real Flint won’t wait once his mind is made up. I’m surprised he didn’t go straight over there yesterday. If it were me-”

“He’s not you, Dad,” Mary said with a loud yawn as she patted his hand. “You ought to know that by now.”

“Hush, you,” Sally scolded half-heartedly. She surveyed her eldest daughter with a stern gaze. “What’s with you? You look like you haven’t slept in days.”

“That’s because I haven’t, thank you for noticing. Gary’s alarm keeps going off at night. It’s maddening,” Mary answered, soon followed by another deep yawn. Upon seeing the confused expressions around, her sisters even had turned their backs on the kitchen window, she explained further. “With Emma back home from Hogwarts for good, Gary thought it’d be a good idea to set up security charms in her room. Apparently, he had a chat with Dad last week.”

“What’s going on in that shop of yours?” Lexie asked, her voice leery.

“None of your business. Why is always my fault, anyway?” Will complained. When he realised that he wasn't fooling anyone, his lips turned up in a smirk. “Fine, if you must know, I told him about the troubles you girls caused me after you moved back home after taking your NEWTs.”

“Oh, Merlin’s beard, Dad! We do not speak of those days,” Lizzie said in horror and turned to Mary. “I’m so sorry. How bad is it?”

“Not too bad if you ask me. To Gary, though, it's world-ending bad. Turns out, our Emma has a suitor who’s taken on the habit of sneaking into her room every night. She refuses to tell us who it is, Gary’s going bonkers, and I’m stuck in the middle. The poor boy will probably end up as dragon food once my dear husband figures out what’s wrong with the anti-Apparition spells or who keeps unlocking the Floo-connection.” Mary yawned again, clearly not as fussed as her husband. “I wish she was still at school, you know. Now she’s my problem instead of Dumbledore’s.”

Will’s first instinct was to tell her that she got what she deserved for what she had put him through in her teenage years. The second was to blurt out that Gary already knew who the boy (he was already working on the tombstone for the youngest Yaxley boy since Mary's husband tended to be a bit too wand-happy) was and only let him escape to give the poor lad a false sense of security. But, thank Merlin, Ellie didn’t give him the chance to spill those titbits.

“He’s here! Oh…Oh, no.” Her excitement turned into distress as she turned to her parents. She looked like she was about to burst out into tears. Next to her, Lizzie groaned loudly as she slapped her forehead and Lexie burst out into a hysterical fit of giggles.

“What’s wrong?” Sally and Will asked in unison.

“He’s come empty-handed,” Lizzie murmured, her hand still on her forehead.

“Straight from the Quidditch pitch,” Lexie added.

“I can smell him here,” Ellie grumbled for good measure. She chanced another glance out the window, which ended with another disappointment. “Gah, what a disgusting pig. Maybe he is a lot more like daddy than we give him credit for. He just spat into Grace’s rosebushes.”

The women in the room turned their attention to Will, their brows raised in askance. Sally was the worst. Anger flashed in her eyes, raising the hairs on Will’s arms. He gulped hard and pushed his chair back before she could dig her claws into his flesh and rip him apart. The girls would probably join her in glee. Unfortunately, he was too late.

As Sally grabbed the front of his shirt and pulled him closer as she hissed, “What exactly did you tell him to do?”

***

“Well, that was… something,” John said, breaking the silence. Dumbfounded, he stared at the empty water glass on the coffee table, trying to wrap his head around what he’d just witnessed. “It was nice of him to inform us, I suppose. I wish he had showered first, though, he smelt a bit like Micky’s socks.”

Grace, who had been sitting with her mouth agape in a perfect O-shape, merely nodded. She still had a beer bottle in her hand, unopened. “I’ve never, ever heard him talk that much. Never believed Sally when she used to tell me that he could. He chatters like your nan used to, did you notice?”

“Say… He didn’t ask us, did he?” John double-checked to ensure that hadn’t missed parts of the one-sided conversation. It wouldn’t have surprised him if he had; aside from talking too much, Marcus had also talked too fast, blurring his words into unrecognisable sounds. Yeah, just like Granny Bell used to do later in life.

“Told us,” Grace confirmed, a bit sourly. “You reckon we ought to tell Katie when she gets home?” 

John summoned another beer and took a long swig, emptying half the bottle. Only after a loud belch, his rampant thoughts settled into place and allowed him to have a more reasonable reaction to what just happened in his living room. And in the end, the answer was simple. “No, let the boy have his moment. You know that she’ll be out that door in a heartbeat if we tell her tonight. Enjoy the time you have left with her.”

***

Marcus stared at his reflection in the grimy mirror as he took deep breaths to calm his racing heart. Not that it helped. The man staring back at him looked as if he was about to be led to the gallows, which wasn’t how was he was supposed to feel. Just last Sunday, when the idea had popped up for the first time, he had truly believed that this was what he wanted. So, why was he doubting himself almost a week later?

“What if she says no?” he said weakly as his hand sneaked into his pocket, fingering the little box.

It was a Saturday, and to spice up their life – according to Witch Weekly this was an absolute must in long-term relationships, and who was he to argue with that logic- he and Katie had decided on a quick bite and drink at the Leaky, which didn’t help his cause. Because, in case she said no, he’d be let down in public with dozens of people around who’d most probably eagerly stick their fat noses where they didn’t belong and before you knew it, Skeeter would get wind of it and he’d be the laughing stock of Britain.

“You can do this,” Marcus quietly encouraged his reflection. “Just go back in there and ask her. Easy peasy. She won’t say no, she loves you.”

Unlike before, however, self-encouragement didn’t help one bit. The mash and bangers he had for dinner churned in his stomach, threatening to make an exit if he insisted on seeing his plan through. Negative thoughts pushed the positives further to the background until nothing other than doom scenarios remained. 

What if she said no and laughed at him for evening thinking that she would?

Or even worse, what if she said yes and took over his life and tried to change him into someone he wasn’t. Was he ready to change, did he need to? Wasn't he perfect already?

“She would’ve done that by now,” he murmured to his reflection.

What if Katie was waiting for exactly this moment to put her evil plan into action? What if she was after his monies and had planted this outrageous idea in his head to get closer to his gold? He wasn’t that well-off - - not for another few years, but he didn’t have to think twice about buying what he wanted either. She knew that. Hadn’t she said once said how much she envied that?

“No… yes?” He honestly couldn’t remember. It didn't sound like something Katie'd do. Had they even talked about money before?

A lump formed in Marcus' throat as he remembered that newspaper article from a few years back. About Carmen Zabini and her six (or was it seven these days?) dead husbands. All of them had been wizards like him, none of them particularly good-looking or smart but with overflowing vaults to compensate for their shortcomings. And now, those poor sods were dead.

“Katie wouldn’t do that,” Marcus said vehemently when the intrusive thoughts didn’t let up. 

“You alright there, mate?” 

Startled by the unfamiliar voice, Marcus turned on his feels and came face to face with a stocky short man. One of the bartenders, he vaguely recalled. Don, Ron, or whatever his name was, watched him with his wand in hand, ready to strike if needed. 

“Yeah, just thinking some things over. What’s that for?” Confused, Marcus pointed at the wand. The sudden movement made Don- Ron jump up, which confused Marcus even more. He hadn’t had a wand pointed at him since his DADA classes at Hogwarts or seen someone this jittery since he had accidentally-on-purpose broken Percy Weasley’s nose Fifth Year. Not that he felt sorry about that; the orange-haired git had it coming for daring to take points for being out in the corridors after curfew.

“Can’t you do your thinking elsewhere? Or better yet, do it like the rest of us?”

“Huh?”

Don-Ron rolled his eyes and tapped the tip of his wand against his temple. “In silence.”

It sounded ridiculous to Marcus. Up until Don-Ron had interrupted his thinking, he’d been alone. What did it matter if he thought aloud or not? “Why?”

“Why? Uhm- Look, I’m gonna be honest here, yeah? You’re scaring the other patrons. I have a bar full of blokes with crossed knees because they’re too afraid to come in here. If they end up pissing against my bar, you’re cleaning it up,” Don- Ron said, clearly feeling more confident than he appeared. Suddenly, he squinted and craned his neck to have a better look. “Hey, I know you. You play for the Tornadoes, don’t ya’?”

Proud to be recognised, Marcus smiled and puffed out his chest. Any minute now, the man was going to ask his autograph, and they could leave this awkward situation behind them. “Yeah, FirstChaser and Capt-”

“Yeah, sounds nice, Quaffle boy, no need to brag. It won’t save your arse,” Don- Ron interrupted unphased, “You’re still cleaning. I suggest that you finish up what you were doing in here and let the others take a piss in peace, yeah?”

The man left as suddenly as he had appeared. As soon as the door closed behind him, Marcus shook his head in disbelief and turned to the grimy mirror. He still had that terror-stricken look on his face. 

“Ridiculous,” he murmured. “I want this. I’m gonna do this.”

It didn’t ease his mind, only made him more nervous. 

“No excuses. Katie is it for me.”

And as he walked back to their table, he decides that he really, really, wanted to ask her.

Just not tonight.

Maybe tomorrow.

Yeah, most definitely tomorrow.

***

Tomorrow turned out to be two weeks later, at the most inopportune moments known to mankind. Marcus chose a wedding to pop the question that had nestled on the forefront of his brain three weeks earlier. 

The longest engagement in wizarding history finally reached its conclusion on Hallowe’en of that year. Or, that was the plan, at least. The happy couple, Terence and the newest Mrs Higgs, Alicia, had performed the old Welsh tradition of rhamanta at the crack of dawn, and thankfully passed. They had then proceeded to the ancient wizarding custom of jumping the broom just before lunch, and for supper, tied the literal knot according to an even older tradition. The intricate golden patterns on their wrists were the permanent testament to that. And somewhere between those archaic rituals, a Ministry official had married them in a new-fashioned Muggle way. In short, they were bound to each other in every way possible, just to appease Mr Spinnet. 

And now, after a long day of old and new rituals, and an evening of feasting and getting sloshed, the party was almost over. Most of the guest had already gone home and the few remaining, unsurprisingly all friends of the bride and groom, were drinking their weight in Firewhisky and beer at the bar before it closed. Those who weren’t were drunkenly swaying to the last tunes the band was playing. 

One of those not-quite dancing were Marcus and Katie. Both were tired, too sober compared to the others because Katie had decided that she wouldn’t drink if Marcus couldn’t. And as the night was nearing its end, both were counting down the minutes until they could go home. She was anyway. He, on the other hand, was trying hard not to blurt out his question and ruin the moment. 

“You alright?” Marcus asked when Katie tripped. His arms tightened around her waist when she just slouched against him, giving up on pretending to dance. 

“So, so tired,” Katie mumbled sleepily as she rested her cheek on his chest. “My feet hurt.”

“We’ll go home when the song ends, yeah?” Marcus rested his chin on the top of her head, his mind swirling with a dozen different variations of the question he wanted to ask. He had one for every day he had delayed asking, and now that he had her here in his arms, the simplest way seemed the best. He took a deep breath. “Katie, love?”

“Wot?” She slowly lifted her chin, her eyes droopy and cheeks flushed. 

This was it. The time had come. As he studied her face, he wondered why in heaven’s name he’d ever doubted asking her. Being with her was what he wanted, he’d give her all his gold if that was what it took to keep her. 

“I was wondering-”

Marcus didn’t get a chance to finish what he was saying because in that exact moment a shrill whistle demanded all the attention in the room. The bride had clambered on a table, frightfully wobbly on her legs as she waved her bouquet, or what was left of it, about.

“Oi, listen up,” Alicia slurred, petals floating in the air around her. The old-fashioned blue wedding robes she had worn for most of the day and night were replaced by a silk white shift. The fabric was torn by the straps and seeing that she was wearing it inside out and a few embarrassing stains, there wasn’t any question left about her and her groom’s whereabouts earlier. “Angie get your arse over here. Gr'ham has something to say.”

It wasn’t often that Marcus felt envious of his friends. But tonight, as he watched Johnson drunkenly stumble to the dance floor, he couldn’t deny the sting he felt. And as Graham knelt down on one knee and held up a small velvet box up to his girlfriend and asked her to marry him, he knew that nothing he’d say or do tonight could trump that. If anything, he’d look like a pathetic copycat.

So, he resigned to stand back and watch the witches in the room go absolutely mental when Johnson howled a teary ‘yes’ and the ring with the obscenely large diamond was slid on her finger. Just like that, the dying party came to life again, this time to celebrate the engagement of Graham Montague and Angelina Johnson, and Marcus reckoned that he needed to choose a new date to pop his question.

Because for now, Katie was wide awake again and too busy admiring Johnson’s new ring to pay any attention to him and small box he had in his pocket.

***

The day, or more accurately, the evening after the wedding felt exactly the same as the Sunday three weeks earlier. Outside, rain was pelting against windows as thunder and lightning shook the world. After having spent most of the day in bed, sleeping and chatting and eating, Katie slid out of bed as quietly as she could. And as it was almost month ago, Marcus watched her scour the bedroom for her clothes. The only difference was that he hadn’t hidden anything this time. She just took her time, kicking the bed and rattling drawers for the fun of it, it seemed. 

“Stop that,” he grumbled when she pitched the covers off the bed and when she couldn’t find what she was looking for and dropped it back haphazardly, leaving his feet cold. 

“I need my socks, I can’t go home without my socks,” Katie snapped back. “While you're cosy and warm in your bed, I have to face the cold and soot and-”

“Don’t go, then. Stay here.”

“Marcus,” Katie whined, “you know what Mum said. Must we do this every Sunday?”

“No, we don’t have to, but we do. Besides, you don’t have to go home for another few hours. Come back to bed.”

“I know,” Katie whined again, stretching out her words. “But Micky’s home for a change and Mum says we need to have supper together. She’s making a roast. I love roast, you know that.”

“Your Mum says so many things. Ignore her,” Marcus grumbled and rolled half out of bed, reaching for his clothes on the floor. He patted his trousers pockets until he found what he was looking for. As he flopped back down on his pillow, he tossed a small wooden box at her. It held the same runes he had once carved into the box that held the necklace she was wearing. “I’ll ask Mum to make us a roast tomorrow if you want.”

“What’s this?” Katie asked as she turned the box around in her hands. Her eyes grew large when she recognised the runes. “Marcus?”

“Open it,” he said with a yawn. It was funny, between worrying if he was doing the right thing, doubting _her_ of all people, and trying to come up with the most romantic way to ask her, he had to end up asking her like this. It seemed fitting, it was utterly them. 

Frowning, Katie held up a key on silver chain to the light. Slowly, as realisation set in, a big grin spread across her face. “It’s a key to your flat.”

“No,” said Marcus as he patted the mattress. “It’s the key to _our_ flat. You’re moving in.” 

“Oh, I am, am I? When did I agree to this?”

“Right about now would be great.”

It was a bold move, one guaranteed to cause some argument. She’d say that he was ordering her around and he’d have to take offence to that, of course. Then she’d say that were moving too fast. He’d counter that with telling her that they were too slow compared to other couples. Then she’d cry Hippogriff tears about saying goodbye to her parents and not being able to afford living here, he’d be the patient and reassuring boyfriend, and somewhere next week, she’d finally move in. Imagine his surprise, when she didn’t do any of those things. What she did do was jump in bed and pepper his face with kisses.

“Now it is then,” she said giggling as she squished his face between her hands. “I can’t believe that we're doing this. Get up.”

“Huh?” They were supposed to celebrate with pumpkin juice and polishing his knob, so to speak. It was too cold to do those things outside the warmth of his bed. 

“C’mon, we need to get packing. If we start now, we can be ready by midnight.” Katie kissed his forcefully-pursed lips and jumped off again, dragging him along by his arm. “You can tell Micky and my parents, yeah?”

Marcus reckoned that it was a good thing he already had that conversation with her parents. Compared to them, dealing with her bother would be a breeze. The man still owed him big time.

“Yeah, yeah, coming.” Instead of doing so, however, Marcus leant back against the headboard. A smile crept up his face as he watched her get dressed to leave his flat for the last time. Starting tonight, midnight as she had promised, he’d have her all to himself every hour of the day, every day of the week. 

Life had already been good, and it just became even better.


	19. The first time they realised that they were full-fletched adults now whether they were ready or not.

“We're going to Brazil,” Katie whispered for the umpteenth time, her voice hoarse with barely contained excitement. Her eyes were large and bright, the mile-wide grin that had crept up her face earlier unfaltering. “Brazil…”

“We're going to Brazil,” Marcus conceded, also for the umpteenth time. Not that he minded; the need to say it aloud was as high as Katie's. This was big, after all, a huge milestone he had reached years earlier than expected and a celebration was in order. So, he didn’t protest when Katie briefly broke their tipsy swaying and stood on her toes to kiss him. It was a start.

Life had been already good, and it just got better. 

Celestina Warbeck’s newest Christmas song, _A Pocketful of Mistletoe_ , wafted through the living room, bouncing off the walls and forcing them to move to the tunes. The only lights illuminating them were the flickering fairy lights in the Christmas tree and the visiontelly box on mute. 

It was Christmas Eve, and before the unrelenting madness that was their family and friends would be unleashed upon them starting tomorrow until New Year’s Day, Katie and Marcus had decided to spend the night just the two of them. Something that had become their tradition since Katie had moved in more than two years ago. The Floo-connection was blocked, owl-repellents were set up, and in case someone would try to disturb the peace in Muggle fashion, the doorbell was disconnected and a deadbolt put in place on the front door. 

Thus far, their evening had gone according to plan; a quick meal from the chippy around the corner, copious amounts of cheap wine to celebrate the temporary lift of Marcus’ imposed liquor-ban. That was followed by watching Christmas films on the telly as Katie tried to explain the Muggle contraptions showcased in the more modern films. Then, just before he’d wanted to set up the owl-repellents, he'd received the letter that had changed everything.

Marcus was officially drafted to play for the Welsh National Quidditch team, competing with them for the World Cup in Brazil. 

“You’re pullin’ me close,” Marcus mumbled along with the song as he clumsily twirled Katie in his arms. The hem of her nightgown lifted a bit in the airflow, showing just enough skin to keep him on his toes and hoping. 

Per Katie’s orders, they spent Christmas Eve in their best nightclothes instead of their Sunday best. So, for their third Christmas Eve together alone, Marcus wore his newest flannel pyjamas and fuzzy dragonhead-shaped slippers, which were an early Christmas present from Katie. Likewise, she wore her latest birthday present at his insistence; the red faux-silk nightdress with on top something the sales witch at Sinful Dreams had referred to as a kimono. The six weeks wait to finally see her dressed in those flimsy pieces of scrap had been worth it. 

Now to get her out of them as soon as possible.

“…I’ll give you my heart, my everything,” Katie sang as she nestled against his chest again. Her arms curled around his waist as they resumed their swaying. “I decided long ago…”

Marcus’ lazy grin grew wider when he noticed what she was doing. Yeah, she wanted to get naked as quick as possible as much as he did. Merlin, he had never thought he’d get himself a girlfriend who was just as randy as he was. The urge to throw her over his shoulder and run for the bedroom was an overwhelming one, but this wasn’t the time for it. It’d be a damn shame if he were to take the lead now that Katie was trying her best to seduce him. 

Marcus liked to be pursued now and then. It fed his ego, made him feel wanted, and frankly, he was too knackered to work for it. So, he kept quiet when she too obviously led them closer to the sofa, humming against his chest as she groped his arse now and then to guide him in the right direction. 

And as she pushed Marcus into the sofa and took off her birthday present as she ordered him to undress, everything in his life made sense. He had Katie, a flourishing career, and now he was asked to represent his country. He didn’t think he could get luckier or happier in life than this. When Katie straddled his lap and roughly pulled his head back by his hair as she hissed ‘Brazil’ in his ear -which held made him shiver in anticipation, he recanted that earlier thought and decided that _this_ was the luckiest and happiest moment in his life.

Much later, as they lay naked and panting under the quilt Mrs Bell had gifted them when Katie had first moved in, Marcus silently mused about what he’d done right in his life to have Katie in it. And as he tightened his arms around his girl, his gaze wandered over to the visiontelly box and the letter from the Welsh National team resting on top of it. On the floor, next to the two empty bottles of wine, their neatly polished wands glistened in the dim light. 

As the opening credits for _‘A Christmas Carol’_ rolled over the screen, and Katie’s snoring reached his ears, a nagging feeling started to brew in the pit of his stomach. There was something he was forgetting, something important, and for the life of him, he couldn’t remember what it was.

***

Marcus didn’t figure out that night what he forgot, and by morning, he couldn’t even remember worrying about something at all. Christmas and Boxing day went without a hitch, both days filled with too much food and drinks and family. New Year’s Eve celebrations with their friends went along the same lines, although there weren’t any drunken brawls nor did anyone lose a body part or two in a firework accident. With almost half of their friend group on a strict diet of pumpkin juice and bedrest, it was a miracle that the party had lasted until the wee hours of the morning. An inevitable change was coming their way, and the unspoken thought was to enjoy their old lives while they still had a chance.

The thick layer of snow that had covered Britain for the better part of December melted in January. And as the Hogwarts Express returned to Hogsmeade, life returned to its normal rhythm. Katie resumed her job at the Ministry, daydreaming about transfiguring her incompetent boss, Mr Bagman, into a tiny spider she could squash underneath the sole of her shoe and take over his job. While she corrected Bagman’s stupid mistakes and watched with dismay how he took credit for her hard work, Marcus resumed his position as the Captain and Chaser for the Tornadoes. The pressure to score was as high as ever, especially now with the added practices with the Welsh National Team few times a week. 

Life went on, life was exhausting, and days passed them in a blink of an eye. Before Marcus knew it, January turned into February and Valentine’s Day was almost upon them. Not that he was too worried about tomorrow’s holiday this particular Sunday. Nor was it the planned visit to their friends' house later in the morning. 

No. For the first time in a long time, Sally's incessant meddling was the source of Marcus' discontent. 

_“Is everything okay between you two?”_

Marcus scowled at the ceiling as he thought about last night. Sally had pulled him aside after dinner, firing a barrage of questions and scolding him for something he didn't even know that he was doing wrong.

_“She looks miserable, what have you done now?” Sally said as she cocked her chin at someone behind Marcus._

_Not sure what or who had got his mother's wand in a knot, Marcus quickly glanced over his shoulder. All he saw was his niece Emma chattering with Katie as they cleared the dinner table. She was telling Katie all about her upcoming wedding no doubt._

_Marcus had just lifted his shoulders to shrug off his mother’s unfair accusations when she flicked his ear._

_“Look closer,” Sally hissed as she took him by the shoulders and switched places so it wouldn’t be too obvious that he was studying the two girls._

_Knowing better than to argue with his mother when she got like this, Marcus did as told. Emma was still chattering as she stacked the dirty dishes in her younger brother’s arms and Katie nodded along with her, offering her a half a smile now and then when Emma’s tone of voice called for one. She clearly wasn’t listening to anything the younger girl was saying._

_Admittedly, now that Marcus thought about it, Katie had been the same with him for the past few days. In fact, he was sure that she was doing her best to avoid being alone with him, which was a difficult feat to accomplish whilst living together._

_Now, Marcus wasn’t the brightest wizard of his age, but he hadn’t fallen off the back of a broom one too many times either. It was evident what Katie’s problem was. Judging by those dark circles underneath her eyes, it bothered her more than she was letting on._

_“I know what her problem is,” he said, trying hard not to roll his eyes in the presence of his mother; she’d wallop him for sure._

_“Took you long enough. Fix it,” Sally said as she wagged her finger in her son’s face. Her voice held the promise of things that made Marcus gulp in fear. “The sooner you put a ring on her finger the better. You’ll have to answer to me if she breaks up with you because you couldn’t be arsed to make an honest witch out of her.”_

_“Honest? And what about me then? Aren’t I a-”_

Marcus scowl grew darker as he rubbed his ear where his mum had pulled it yesterday after that innocent joke. He shouldn’t have joked; he knew that now. Rather, he should’ve told his mother to bugger off and mind her own sodding business or harass his sisters as usual. That was what they were there for, after all. 

“Damn woman, putting ideas in my head,” he murmured. There was nothing wrong between him and Katie, and he was quite sure that she didn’t want to get married. No, it had been Emma’s yapping about _her_ wedding that had got to Katie. Merlin, favourite niece or not, even Marcus had been ready to throttle Emma over dinner; the girl took too much after her mum and aunts. 

Still, it didn’t explain why Katie looked like something the Kneazle had dragged in or why she was pulling away from him each time he wanted to hold or touch her. 

“There’s only one way to find out,” said Marcus with a sigh as he turned his head to the empty spot next to him in bed. It was time to get up and take the Horntail by the horns and sort out whatever what was wrong.

***

Katie was in the living, sitting on the floor with the Daily Prophet before her and sipping from a huge mug of tea. By the looks of her clothes and wet hair messily tied together in a bun on top of her head, she’d already showered. It looked like seducing her by offering to wash back was out of the question.

Arms folded, Marcus leant against the doorpost to study her some more. She looked little less tired this morning than she did yesterday. And when her hand shot up to her mouth, and she began nibbling on her thumbnail as her lips curled up into a smile at something she was reading, he couldn’t help but smile along with her. See, there wasn’t anything wrong with her. Or them.

“What’s so funny?” he asked when Katie giggled, clearly more than just liking whatever it was the Prophet had concocted. 

Startled, Katie sloshed half of her tea over her jumper. Her smile faltered, and for a second, Marcus was sure that she was going to find an excuse to get away from him. Surprisingly, she did no such thing. She beckoned him closer whilst pointing at the Prophet with her other hand.

“I can’t believe it!” she exclaimed, sounding more lively and energetic than she had in days.

Curious, Marcus came closer and peered down. All he saw was a page full of houses for sale. Katie must have noticed the confusion on his face because she tugged at his pyjama trouser to lean in closer as she tapped her finger on a small photograph. 

“It’s the old Rosier Cottage,” said Katie expectantly when the look of confusion on Marcus’ face didn’t ease. “It needs some work, of course, but it has a large back garden that borders the forest. It’s ideal to fly a broom or try new moves without anyone seeing. It even has a pond you can swim in. Isn’t it rad?”

Marcus blinked a few times as he tried to recall what day it was. She had to be pulling his leg. “It’s in Tinworth,” he said flatly. “Our parents are in Tinworth.”

This time, Katie’s smile did falter without picking back up. “Yeah, but they’ll be on the other side of the village.”

“That's three streets at most. It's Tinworth,” Marcus said with disgust. “Why would I wanna live there? I’d be bored out of my mind. Then again, having Mum barge in every second of the day probably will kill me first. Besides, what’s wrong with our flat, with London that you’re looking at those?”

“I- Nothing wrong with the flat.” Katie’s smile vanished completely, and she dropped her gaze to the Prophet on the floor. When she looked up at him again a few seconds later, her eyes were watery, and she wore that fake smile Marcus had learnt to recognise. “Why don’t you go and get ready. We’re supposed to be at Ally and Ter’s in an hour.” 

A few minutes later, as Marcus stood under the hot spray of the shower, he silently cursed himself for giving in without much thought and thus skewing his plan to get to the source of Katie’s dissatisfaction. He should’ve asked further, demanded answers, and not let her out of his sight before he got them. 

Hopefully, he’d get a chance later today.

***

There were many things Marcus would’ve like to have done on his free Sunday. Spend the day in bed with his witch, sleeping with his face buried in her chest as she stroked his hair was one of the many preferred pastimes. Actually, he would’ve preferred just about everything else than what he was currently doing, which was visiting Alicia and Terence who had their first spawn a week earlier. 

In one corner of the room, the men sat drinking beers in honour of the new sprout whilst the girls had huddled around Alicia on the other end. As it was common with witches when confronted with a newborn, the girls were cooing and making faces at the baby. A baby that was a boy named Daniel. Having seen his fair share of newborns thanks to his sisters, Marcus had concluded that the newest Higgs didn’t diverge too much from the average baby. The boy looked like a lumpy potato with a tuft of hair on top. Nothing special, Marcus had seen worse and better.

Sipping unhappily from his pumpkin juice, Marcus glared around the room, not really listening to the conversations around him. To be honest, he didn’t care to hear Alicia relay all the sordid details of her labour (tearing included), nor did he want to hear Terence talk about dirty nappies and bloody cords and sleepless nights. In short, it was like talking to his sisters in their young-bearing years all over again. Something short of a nightmare. 

The worst of all was that this, the birth of Danny Higgs, was just the beginning of the end. Graham had got Johnson up the duff, who looked like she was about to burst open any minute now. Adrian had done the same with his on-again-off-again witch, Pansy Parkinson (joking that Adrian had snatched the wrong Parkinson hadn’t gone over too well, so Marcus was still paying for that and didn’t dare tell Adrian off for talking babies). Currently, they were very pregnant and very much on. Same for Leanne and Lee Jordan and Derek Bole and his wife. To top it off, Warrington and his girlfriend had just announced that they, too, were expecting a baby by the end of the summer. In short, life as Marcus had known it was over. 

“No, not you too,” groaned Marcus when he saw Katie take over the baby from Alicia. The girls shifted seats to sit around her, whispering conspiratorially with each other now the horror tales were over and done with. The worst was that Katie just smiled shyly and nodded along with those wenches putting unwanted thoughts in her head. "Traitor."

“You alright, mate?” Graham asked as the others laughed at Marcus grumblings. “You look bored.”

“I am,” Marcus grunted into his goblet. “Can’t we talk about something else than babies for a sec, I’ve had my fill with this shite for today.”

Graham laughed harder, clapping him on the back. “Not likely,” he wheezed between guffaws. “C’mon, it could be you one of these days. Baby Flint, has a nice ring to it, hasn't it?”

“Not bloody likely. Who’d want that?” Marcus groused, feeling annoyed. Of course, it had to be said right at the moment everyone around him fell silent. It was as if his words kept on echoing through the room in endless loops. 

He caught Katie’s eye, and for a fleeting but hopeful moment, he was sure that she knew what he meant. Then he realised that the small smile on her face was that fake one, the one they needed to chat about. Whispering something to Alicia, she handed the baby back over and excused herself to go the loo. Marcus’ internal debate whether to go after her or not was cut short when Adrian tugged at his sleeve.

Ever the sensitive one, he asked, “Is everything okay between you two?” 

Perhaps it was in the way Adrian had asked it, or because it was the same question Sally had asked just a day before, but whatever it was, it quenched the urge to follow Katie. So, Marcus shrugged his friend off and told him to mind his own business. And when Katie returned fifteen minutes later, puffy-eyed and sniffling, he pretended not to see it, just like he pretended not to see the other girls’ death glares directed at him or hear his friends continually repeating Adrian’ question like a gaggle of curious Great-Aunts.

He wasn’t sure how to answer it, anyway, not until he had spoken to Katie.

Unfortunately, he didn’t get the chance to ask her when they got home later that day as he had hoped. Katie practically ran from his side the moment they tumbled out of the fireplace, claiming she wasn’t feeling too well and was off to bed. She didn’t come out for supper or kiss him goodnight when he joined her in bed later in the evening even though she was awake. He knew because playing pretend had never been one of Katie’s strong suits.

Whatever it was that was going on with his girl, it didn’t stem Marcus hopeful, especially when he woke up in the middle of the night to her quiet sobs.

***

“I’m sorry about, uh, this,” apologised Marcus for the tenth time since their arrival. 

Although that Abbot woman had done her best to make something of it, the Leaky Cauldron was hardly the epitome of romance. But beggars couldn’t be choosers, and having completely forgotten about Valentine’s Day up until two hours ago, this had been the best Marcus had managed to pull off on such short notice.

“I’ll- Your gift ought to be ready by the weekend,” he added, another sorry on his lips. 

“S’okay,” Katie mumbled as she listlessly stirred her spoon in the bowl of pea soup. “I forgot about it too.”

It could be considered progress, Marcus reckoned. It was more than she’d said to him all day. “So, I talked to Pritchard this morning, he’s the new director for the Welsh team, and he told me that the schedules for the preliminaries will be published by the end of the week. So we can start planning the trip...”

“That’s nice,” Katie mumbled. Suddenly, she stopped stirring her soup and looked up at him. The dark circles underneath her eyes were more profound than the day before, and she looked pale, too pale. “Rosier’s cottage is still for sale. Alicia told me yesterday that Terence had gone there for a look two weeks ago and almost bought because it was so beautiful and big and in Tinworth.”

“Katie,” Marcus said tiredly, not sure what had caused her sudden obsession with their old village. Katie, however, did not listen.

“But they bought the house across the street from it because it needs less work done. They’re moving away from London, and so are Angie and Graham. Didn’t they tell you yesterday?” For a minute, Katie looked as if she wanted to say more, an angry flashed across her face, but she eventually decided against it. “It’s still for sale. We should have a look.”

“No. I’d rather take a Bludger to the head, love.”

“Fine, Bludger it is then.” Katie returned to stirring her soup. “Danny is the sweetest, isn’t he?” she said after a few minutes of silence.

Marcus wasn’t sure if he ought to laugh or cry at the baby talk. Would it be too rude to say that he didn’t care? He wanted to talk about her, not some drooling monkey. “Yeah, if you like non-stop poo and pee machines. I swear, someone must have hexed our friends. I mean, who’d want those ankle biters-”

Whatever he wanted to say was cut short when Katie pushed her bowl over the table and blurted out, “I’m late.”

“For what?” Honestly, the way she managed to jump from topic to topic was maddening.

“I’m late,” Katie repeated, her voice thick with unshed tears. “As in I didn’t get my monthly this month. Or the month before.”

Marcus didn't need more explanation than that. He knew exactly what it meant. He had witnessed one too many of such conversations with his sisters and their mother. “You’re pregnant?”

"I don't know." Katie conjured a handkerchief from the slice of bread and dabbed her eyes and blew her nose. “I- I bought a test to make sure,” she said with a hiccup, “But I’ve been holding off because I don’t want to break up with you.”

“Wot?” The whole world had gone mad, Marcus was sure of it. "Break up, why?”

“You- you hate babies. You don’t want any,” Katie wailed. 

The other patrons turned their attention to them. Not only were they curious to know why the big Quidditch star and his girlfriend were spending Valentine’s Day at the Leaky, but they also wanted to know what the big oaf had done to make the poor girl cry. 

“I never said that,” said Marcus as he pulled his wallet and tossed a few coins on the table. There was only one way to sort this out. “C'mon, get up.”

“Why?” Katie cried.

Marcus looked around nervous and agitated, growling and baring his teeth at the most nosy ones of the lot before he walked around the table to help Katie out of her chair. Every one of those nosy bastards would like to know to answer to that question, wouldn’t they? Well, he wasn’t about to give them the pleasure.

“We’re gonna go home and take that damn test,” he whispered into Katie’s ear as he helped her into her coat.

***

“You’re good at this,” Katie murmured to the top of Marcus’ head who sat before her on the bathroom floor on his knees. Her face twisted into a grimace when he cut the tip of her finger with the Transfigured end of his wand.

“I’ve done it a few times,” Marcus answered as he gently squeezed her finger to make enough blood to well up. Then realising how that must have sounded, he hastily added, “Lizzy, hated this part and made me help her in exchange for some pocket money. I knew how to use these things before starting Hogwarts. This ought to be enough.”

As soon as he collected the right amount of blood drops, he hastily corked the small phial and shook it three times counter-clockwise as instructed and set it on the bathtub edge. “A minute ought to be enough,” he said as he healed Katie’s finger. “Now we wait.”

Katie slides of the pot and sits next to him on the floor. Marcus wraps his arm around her shoulder and pulls her close against his chest as he leant them against the bathtub, relishing in the feel of having her so close again. 

“You’d really break up with me because of this?” he said. Feeling her nod, he asked, “But why, though?

“I know you don’t want any kids,” Katie began, her voice teary and wavering. “But I do.”

“I never said I didn’t want any. Where in Merlin’s name did you get that idea?” Marcus said, confused and insulted.

“You never say nice things about babies or kids. And yesterday at Ally and Ter’s, you said not bloody likely. I heard you.” Katie began sobbing again, her face pressed against his chest. “I won’t make you do something you don’t want but I won't get rid of it if I am.”

Maybe laughing in such a situation wasn’t the best reaction, but Marcus couldn’t help himself. As laughter bubbled up, he held on tighter to Katie and kissed the top of her head. “Silly woman. I would’ve thought that you’d agree with me.”

“How so?”

“Well, you’re up for promotion now that Bagman’s sacked and I have the World Cup to train for and win. We’re supposed to travel to Brazil this summer and holiday there after the Cup’s final match. How’d you suggest we do all that with a baby?” 

Katie didn’t immediately answer him. Instead, she enfolded his hand in hers. “Time’s up,” she whispered. “You look.”

“Together.” Marcus reached behind him and grabbed the phial, his heart was racing so fast inside his chest he feared that it’d leap out. Had his friends gone through this as well? “You ready?”

Slowly, he opened his trembling hand. A trillion different thoughts whirled in his mind, from happiness and relief to disappointment and regret, although that didn’t last too long. Beside him, Katie started sobbing again, and he couldn't blame her. He’d known about the doubts for less than hour, which had been exhausting, he could only imagine how she felt. 

“It’s pink,” he said needlessly. That caused another round of sobs with Katie. However, if he had to be honest, it sounded more like giggling. And the longer he stared at the phial, the more he also felt the need to join her. Laugh. Scream at the top of his lungs. Something. Slowly but surely, though, the corners of his mouth curled up into a smile that turned into a mile-wide grin. 

“So, Rosier’s cottage is still for sale you say?”


	20. The first time Katie and Marcus had something important to tell their families. It’s also the first time Micky and Marcus had physical contact.

There were plenty of things on Katie’s to-do list for this year. As Marcus had mentioned the evening before, she had planned to apply for Mr Bagman’s position now that the useless knobhead was sacked for gambling and match-fixing. Accompanying Marcus to Brazil had been second, and staying on the South-American continent for an additional few weeks for a well-deserved holiday after the World Cup had been a good third on her list. Making a baby and giving birth to it wasn’t on there, not even at the bottom. And still, if her missing periods and the home test was something to go on, that was what she’d be doing this year.

For the umpteenth time since noticing something was amiss with her monthlies, Katie grew incredibly hot at the mere thought. Unfortunately, since becoming of age, her problems didn’t disappear on their own or because her parents took care of it. This was not something she could pass on to someone else to solve for her.

“Oh God,” Katie whispered as panic brewed in the pit of her stomach. To distract herself, she lifted her hand to fan her over-heated face and glanced around. The small waiting room at the midwife’s office was filled with witches in various stages of pregnancy and their partners, who didn’t appear all too excited. Still, as Katie studied the couples around her from underneath her lashes, a jolt of jealousy shot through her, tempering the panic.

Unlike the witches and their bored partners, she was all alone. Earlier that morning, when she had owled Marcus to let him know that the midwife had fitted them in for a last-minute consultation, he had replied that he’d be later. Owled, not even fire-called. Of course, Katie realised that sneaking off without Ruckus hexing Marcus’ arse a few times over wouldn’t be feasible but still.

However, as the seconds ticked away, her flimsy understanding ebbed away as well. It wouldn’t be much longer before her name was called, and the nagging feeling that ‘later’ would probably turn out to be ‘another time’ grew stronger and stronger. It did not bode well for the future, did it?

The door to the examination room opened, and a tall, stocky-looking woman dressed in lilac robes appeared. She peered at the bright pink clipboard in her shovel sized hands. “Katherine Bell? You can come in now.”

The use of her full name didn’t sit well with her, nor did the tens of heads that turned in her direction, as if she were some curiosity to be studied. Trembling with nerves, Katie stood up and slowly made her way to the waiting midwife. Most witches and wizards nodded in encouragement as she passed them whilst a few others lifted their magazines up to their faces and pretended they weren't there.

It was one thing to tag along with her friends for their appointments, Katie mused, but being the patient this time around had a quite different feel to it.

“Where are you, you git,” she whispered to herself, unsure of what to do to buy some more time. If she’d walk any slower, she’d be standing still. “C’mon, c'mon.”

Too preoccupied with Marcus’ absence and her general anxiety about what was going to happen once the door closed behind her, Katie didn’t notice the increasingly excited whispering around her. She preferred to concentrate on the noses of her shoes as she shuffled towards the midwife. Someone suddenly enfolded her hand in theirs, startling her, and kissed her cheek.

A few days old stubble tickled her skin and the scent of freshly mown grass mixed with a tinge of sweat and musk washed over her. Katie knew who it was without needing to look up. She did, of course, even if it were to reassure herself that he was here and she wouldn’t need to go through life as a single track-suit wearing mum and live in dingy flats like you’d see in those programmes on the telly.

“You’re here,” Katie breathed as she melted into Marcus’ side. The sudden urge to feel him close an overwhelming one. She tried to reign her trembling body, but with him finally near, the anxiety and stress decided to come out. At least her voice was even. Sort of, almost. “I was afraid you were going to miss it.”

“Not in a million years,” murmured Marcus as he wrapped his arms around her and kissed the top of her head, knowing exactly how to calm her. “Ruckus kept me back. He Floo-called Pritchard after I told him about you and needing the time off when the baby comes. Those two ganged up on me and refused to let me go until both finished their lecture about keeping it in my trousers in the future and something about Skeeter getting a whiff of it. There was some other rubbish, but I can’t remember.”

“S’okay, you’re here now.” Marcus had kept his word, and that was all that mattered to Katie. Even the mention of Rita Skeeter didn’t bother her as much as it would have done in the past.

It didn't take long for her legs to stop feeling like jelly. When she was sure that she wouldn’t break down once the door to the examination room closed behind her, Katie took a deep breath and peeled herself from Marcus’ hold. “Let’s do this. Are you ready?”

“No,” Marcus answered her honestly, ready to defend himself in case Katie took it the wrong way. Thank Merlin, that didn’t happen. “Are you?”

Katie sniggered as she took his hand and let him towards the waiting midwife. “Good Gods, no! Not by a long shot.”

***

“Yeah, you’re pregnant all right,” Christy the midwife said as soon as a ghostly image appeared above Katie’s bare stomach and a loud thumping sound filled the room. “Congrats dearies, you’ve created life, and quite a solid one judging by the heartbeat.”

“I could’ve told you that,” Marcus said haughtily, his displeasure with the midwife not forgotten. He sat on a steel chair next to the cot Katie was lying on, his leg nervously bopping up and down. He squinted at the image for a few seconds as if he was trying to solve a complicated puzzle and muttered, “Yeah, she’s up the duff for sure.”

“Funny how easy it is when you ain’t trying, yeah?” Christy joked with an exaggerated wink as she moved her wand up and down Katie’s abdomen to enhance the image. Marcus' glare didn’t deter her, nor when he bared his teeth, growling.

Katie shushed Marcus before he could make matters worse. Something had crawled up his arse. Christy’s insistence on referring the baby in all her forms as ‘Baby Bell’ instead of ‘Baby Flint’ was probably it. Of all the things to be upset about, he had to go and fuss about something as insignificant as a name.

Marcus muttering something about evil hags and burning them at the stake broke Katie’s reveries. She squeezed his hand to a pulp, hoping that he’d understand the silent warning. The huff that followed was all she needed to know, and she shifted her attention to the weird looking thing that was growing inside her.

The longer Katie studied it, the worried she became. She knew that she was supposed to say that it was the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen but that would be a lie. It looked like a slug with weirdly-shaped things sticking out over the length of its tiny body.

“Is everything okay with her, uhm, him? It?” she asked timidly. Perhaps, it was a slug, and she wasn’t pregnant at all. What? Stranger things had happened before.

“Just perfect. I’ll make some prints for you to take home. If you really want to know what you’re having, I’ll tell you in a few weeks’ time, yeah? When it’s all settled in there,” said Christy, misunderstanding Katie’s question. She scratched through her notes on the clipboard and jotted down new ones as she asked, “Tell me, it was a cold Christmas, wasn’t it?”

Katie blinked a few times at the question, and when she couldn’t make heads or tails out of it, she turned to Marcus. He was too transfixed on their soon-to-be baby to notice her. Or he pretended to be, at least, because those flushed cheeks told her that he’d heard the midwife question. So, she had no other option left than to ask what Christy was on about.

“Excuse me?”

“You’re a bit further than you thought, dearie. Seven weeks and a few days since conception to be accurate, you were a month off. Muggles would add two more weeks to that to be sure, but we can be more precise than them,” Christy said as she pointed her quill at the grainy image. “That tells me that Christmas was cold but very comfortable for you two. Maybe Boxing Day- No, no, definitely Christmas Day, give or take a few hours.”

“Oh, yeah, very cold. We had lots of snow on Christmas Day. Remember, Marcus?”

Katie felt her cheeks heat up in embarrassment, which was stupid because if anyone knew how babies were made, it was the midwife. This was the woman who was going to see every bit of her private parts, in and out, in the foreseeable future. Or maybe, she shouldn’t think about that just yet.

“I- I don’t understand, though. I’m on the potion and _he_ always uses the charm.”

At the mention of the Contraceptive Charm, Marcus tugged at Katie’s sleeve and shook his head.

“If she’s right about Christmas…” he said sheepishly. His brows knitted together into a dark scowl when Christy sniggered at his comment. “I think I forgot to cast it once or twice. But you were supposed to take your potion, right? It shouldn’t have mattered that I forgot, right?”

“Right.” Katie glowered in annoyance. Here she was blaming herself for days for the situation whilst he’d been as much to blame as her. As she turned to Christy, she said, “ _I_ did my part, though. I drank my potion, I’m sure of it. That should’ve been more than enough.”

“Home brewed or bought?” Christy asked, smiling as if she knew something Katie didn’t.

“Bought, I couldn’t find the time to make my own.”

Christy’s smile grew into a grin. “Let me guess, Abbott’s Apothecary.” Seeing Katie nod, she continued, “They had a problem with quite a few batches last year, forgot to put in the main ingredient, poppy seed, if you can believe it and didn’t find out until last month. They advertised about it in the Prophet to recall the sold phials as if that would’ve helped. I can’t blame if you haven’t seen it, it wasn’t larger than my pinkie nail. Thanks to them Wizarding Britain has a baby boom going on in case you haven’t noticed.”

Well, that explained a lot, Katie thought. It had been too much of a coincidence for not one, but all her friends to turn out pregnant so shortly after each other. Marcus must have had the same thought because he burst out into roaring laughter, clapping his knees in glee as he doubled over. Although she should’ve been mad, curse Abbott and her misfortune and Marcus’ forgetfulness, Katie found that she couldn’t. It wouldn’t change a single thing about their situation. She was pregnant, growing a slug-person and it was scarier than serving detention with Snape.

All she could do for now was to lean back and enjoy the broom ride.

“So, when is the little bugger coming out then?”

***

It was almost a month later, on a warm Sunday in March that Sally and Will Flint’s cottage nearly burst out of its seams. It was the patriarch’s sixty-fifth birthday, and thanks to the planning and managing skills of the four Flint sisters, the whole family by blood or marriage had gathered together to celebrate the joyous occasion. Among them, Katie and Marcus, who were waiting for the right moment to share their good news, which they still had not found yet after being there for three hours already.

“Why don’t we wait ‘til next Sunday, when we have dinner with them,” Katie said, nearly hyperventilating at the mere thought of telling her parents that she was pregnant. Her mother’s not-so-friendly warnings about having 'accidents' whilst in school or after a night out still rang in her ears.

That Katie had left Hogwarts ages ago didn't matter. Nor the fact that it wasn’t some random bloke who’d got her pregnant on top of a rubbish bin in some disgusting back alley after a night of too much partying. Grace’s warnings, including wagging finger, kept crossing Katie’s mind at the most inconvenient times.

_“I’m too young to be someone’s granny. I’ll box your ears if you ever come home from school up the duff!_

It was ridiculous to let it bother her so much, Katie knew that. Micky and Eloise had announced last September that they were having a baby and no-one got their ears boxed. John and Grace had been happy for them, not once getting angry, or telling them off for being irresponsible. They hadn’t even harassed the soon-to-be-parents about not being married, although, according to Marcus who had borne the brunt of it, Ruckus had been hung up on that for a long while.

“Yeah, let’s tell them later,” Katie repeated, loud and firm.

“We can’t, Lexie’s sending them off to Majorca for a month tonight. It’s her gift to them,” Marcus explained, “She’s packing their bags as we speak. And if we have to wait for them to return, you’ll probably already be showing and I’ll never hear the end of it for not telling them sooner. Mum will probably skin me alive and make a raincoat out of it.”

Marcus wiped his clammy hands off on his trousers. Like Katie, he, too, remembered the hours upon hours of his father’s lectures, then his mum’s, and much later Lizzy’s about the importance of using contraceptives. Although he did look forward to seeing what kind of kid he and Katie had made by accident, he couldn’t shake off the feeling that he was letting his parents down somehow. And his sister; Lizzy was sure to wallop him for forgetting such an important thing.

“I’m gonna be sick,” Katie whispered as she wrung her hands.

“I don’t think you’ve anything left to sick up,” Marcus pointed out, referring to the four times Katie had vomited before leaving the flat. “We, uh, we ought to take care of that. I’ll get you something to eat, yeah? Wait here.”

Before Katie could shriek that he needed to stay put and act as her shield, Marcus had already darted over to the large table that threatened to collapse under the sheer amount of food placed upon it. From freshly baked bread surrounded by home-churned butter and various cheeses, to meat and vegetable dishes spreading an aroma of delicious spices, and several roasted chickens just waiting to be cut. Anything you could think of, it was there, waiting to be devoured by an army of Flints and their guests.

Maybe, Katie mused, a few bites wouldn’t hurt. As Marcus held up an empty plate up at her, she pointed at the dishes she wanted to taste. She hadn’t realised how hungry she really was when he returned with an overflowing plate of food and an overlarge goblet with pumpkin juice for her alone.

“Are we sharing?” Katie asked as airily as possible whilst Marcus conjured a small stool and table. “I don't mind, not really.”

“I guess we’re not then,” was his amused answer. He sat down on the stool and pulled Katie on his lap, kissing her temple. “Eat, you’re wasting away as we speak.”

“Good man, I’m starving.” Just when Katie wanted to sink her teeth into a chicken leg, Lizzy passed them with an unreadable expression on her face. It was the same bored expression she always wore, but today it was enough to set Katie off. Before she could stop herself, she blurted out, “I’m fine. Honestly, I am. There’s nothing wrong with me. Stop staring at me!”

“Oh, no, now you’ve done it,” Marcus said with a sigh as he pinched the bridge of his nose.

Lizzy stopped dead in her tracks and studied them for what seemed a lifetime, clearly unimpressed by what she saw. Eventually, a sly grin tugged at the corners of her mouth, and she drawled, “I didn’t ask, darling, but it’s good to know. So, Marcus, my sweet little brother, is there something you want to tell me?”

“No,” Marcus grumbled, head ducked to avoid eye-contact. The one things he'd learnt from having four sisters; never look the beast in the eye.

“I thought you’d say that. See you later, then. Ta.”

As Lizzy hurried to her sisters and Eloise, who had managed to escape Micky and Grace, and started telling them something with exaggerated arm movements, Katie turned to Marcus, “I’ve mucked that up, haven’t I?”

“A bit,” Marcus sighed as he eyed the women. His sisters and Eloise grew noticeably more excited and louder. It wouldn’t be long before they gathered everyone around them. Who didn’t love gossip, eh? “Better finish your plate, love. If we wait any longer, my sisters will spill the beans on us. Knowing our mums, they won’t let us hear the end of it.”

Eat first and tell later sounded like a solid plan to Katie. Although letting the Flint Sisters make the announcement for them didn’t seem too bad either.

***

“You brought the cards with you?” Marcus asked for the umpteenth time as he guided Katie through the crowd by the arm. Aunts, uncles, nieces, and nephews, and everyone else that fell in the categories in between seemed to eye them as they passed, smirking, wagging brows. It was equal parts nerve-wracking as it was annoying and it would be just his luck if his parents picked up on the news through the grapevine instead of him and Katie.

“Yeah, in my pocket,” Katie answered, trying her best to avoid eye contact lest someone would be tempted to start a conversation with them.

“Good.” Marcus swallowed hard as he peeked around the corner into the living room. John Bell was in the middle opening another bottle of Firewhisky as he guffawed about something or the other. William Flint sat on the new sofa Marcus had bought Sally, stuffing a handful of peanuts into his mouth as if he hadn’t eaten in ages. Both men came across as relaxed, enjoying themselves. Sally and Grace, and a gloating Micky were busy discussing knitting patterns for baby clothes.

According to Grace, Sally’s opinions on the matter were outdated since she hadn’t had a grandbaby to knit for in a long time. And according to Sally, Grace’s favourite Muggle patterns were sure to leave Micky's baby dying of cold because it was too, well, too Muggle considering the loose knit and holes in it. Michael didn’t help settle the argument, of course, he was enjoying himself little too much with pitting the two witches against each other, pointing out the most innocent comments and twisting them in such a way they became insults.

Well, at least someone was having fun.

After another deep, courage-mustering breath, Marcus nudged Katie, who had a newfound interest in the wallpaper pattern. “Are you ready?”

“No.” Katie let out a nervous chuckle, pressing her thumbnail into Sally’s carefully picked wallcovering. “You’d think we’re sixteen-year-olds needing to tell our parents that we made a mistake. It’s ridiculous, isn’t it?”

“No, it fits us, I think.” Marcus turned to her, for the first time that day smiling a genuine smile.

In the past month, they’d come to terms with the fact they had an _accident_ , they’d grown more excited with each passing day. Last week, they had started discussing possible names, first _and_ last ones. Thoughts and ideas he hadn't had before cropped up out of nowhere, hitting him over the head like a Bludger and leaving him dazed and confused. Stupid things, like wanting to build a crib for the baby.

Thankfully, Katie had reminded him his mother's hoarding tendencies. Knowing her, his old cot was probably gathering dust in his parents’ attic. And that had sounded appealing as well. The thought of his kid sleeping in the same bed he had slept in ages ago, had and still made him feel all sorts of emotions he didn’t know how to express in proper words.

And when brand new thoughts and ideas weren’t tormenting him in the middle of the night, he found himself revisiting his world views and realising that they didn’t fit him anymore. Aside from Katie and his family, there weren't many things in life he had cared or thought about before last Valentine’s Day. He'd deemed them unnecessary, too much of a hassle, too old-fashioned to waste any of his time on. Funnily enough, it was those things he wanted to do and have these days. Life was strange.

“Do you think that we made a mistake?” Marcus asked as he entwined his fingers with Katie’s, already knowing what she'd say.

“Of course not,” she snapped. “Do you? This is not the time to change your mind on me.”

“Nope, not changing my mind. I’m a Flint, and Flints do not make mistakes, just happy accidents at most. Ask any of my sisters if you don’t believe me,” Marcus answered her, his smile growing wider as Katie tried and failed to scowl at him.

He loved to see her smiling, any day of the week, any time of the day. It was enough to ease his nerves. Just like that, another thought popped up and waiting for September to arrive so that he could meet his son or daughter seemed too long. He hoped that their kid would take after Katie, at least have her smile.

“Come, let’s get this over with.”

Neither Marcus nor Katie had known what to expect when they stepped into William Flint's sanctuary. Whatever it was, the whole family with the four sisters in the lead streaming after them into the living had not been it.

“Do you mind?” Marcus snapped at them over his shoulder.

“Yeah, we do,” said Lexie.

“Get on with it, I’m dying here,” Mary encouraged.

“Dying? I hope you aren’t sick,” Katie said in a feeble attempt to dissuade the attention from her and Marcus. Not that it helped, it only made the situation worse.

Sally and Grace stopped squabbling and turned to the crowd, surprised to see the dozens of guests trying to fit into the small room. Eloise had already found her way to Michael’s side. She had her hand clasped over her mouth to keep herself from blurting out whatever it was she was eager to share.

“Nice try, love,” Lizzy said as she inched closer to Marcus and pulled his ear. Her voice was barely audible, just loud enough for Katie and Marcus to hear. “Mum’s gonna cry her eyes out when she finds out you didn’t tell her the moment you found out. Not to mention how much you’ve hurt us, your loving and devoted sisters.”

“I have no idea-” Katie tried again but was cut short by Ellie. Whereas Lizzy had taken it upon herself to pull Marcus’ ear, Ellie did the same with Katie.

“Your Mum’s worse than ours, love. Your brother had the right idea when he told them the second they found out, and you never wondered why? Oh, sweet, sweet child.” Ellie nodded at Lizzy and at the same time, they pushed Katie and Marcus forward. “Good luck, lovelies.”

It happened in a flash and their stumble wasn’t more than a wobbly step forward, and if you’d blinked, you would’ve missed it. No matter how small it was, though, it was enough for both sets of parents to survey their children in suspicion. It didn’t help that the previously loud guests had suddenly muted, watching the scene before them with bated breath.

John, who assumed wrong, mumbled something under his breath about asking his blessing for once before he took a large swig of whisky straight from the bottle. He passed the bottle to Will, but a not-so-happy looking Michael beat him to it. Eloise flashed Katie and Marcus an apologetic smile as she tried to pry the bottle from Michael's hand. Sally and Grace simultaneously crossed their arms, noses high in the air as they stared their son and daughter down in a failed attempt at Legilimency.

Eventually, it was Will who broke the awkward silence that had descended upon the room. He let out a world-weary sigh as he cocked his chin at Marcus. “What’s going on?”

“Nothing,” Katie answered far too casually. Realising her mistake, she cleared her throat and tried again. “We wanted to give you your gift. Marcus?” she added as she nudged his side.

“Oh, yeah.” Pushed into action, Marcus rummaged in his trouser pocket. The longer it took to find what he was looking for, the redder his face turned. Besides him, Katie didn’t fare any better, pulling his sleeve every other second and hissing at him to hurry up.

Will sighed once again and where Eloise had failed to rescue the bottle of Firewhisky from Michael’s newly-found thirst, he accomplished it with a simple wave of his hand. A small dribble ran down his chin as he, too, took a swig. Finally, he showed his son and Katie mercy as he pointed the bottle in the direction of the fireplace and said,

“If you’re looking for the gilded chisel, you gave it to me when you first came in. It’s on the mantle.”

“Yes, of course. Silly us. It’s just, ah, we forgot to give you your card,” Marcus said nervously. It was his turn to do the nudging. “Katie? You have the card.”

“Together?” she asked in a small voice as she tried to fade into his side, trembling again.

And just like that, Marcus’ the anxiety ebbed away. Katie was right; it was ridiculous that they’d made such big deal out of it. They were happy with the result, so it didn’t matter what someone else thought about it. Besides, no one needed to know the how and why. It didn’t matter anyway in the grand scheme of things.

“Together,” Marcus answered. He put his hand on her cheek and gently forced her to look up at him. When she did, he leant down for a kiss, much to the amusement of the crowd behind them. “Together,” he repeated softly against her lips, which was thankfully enough to stop Katie from shaking and have her smile again.

“Hullo?” Will clapped his hand when it looked like Marcus and Katie were about to go for another round of snogging. Next to him, John was mumbling something about uncouth kids these days. Sally and Grace weren’t much better; they had sniffed blood and were ready to pounce on their prey.

Katie gave one of the two cards to Marcus, and as they approached their parents, they decided a last-minute change to their plan was in order. Whilst she sat down next Will and asked Sally to join them, Marcus did the same with her parents and Michael, flanked by Eloise. That led to four indignant Flint sisters gathering around Katie and their parents.

“It’s the second part of your gift,” Katie said she handed Will the card. From the corner of her eyes, she saw Marcus do the same. All left to do was wait for the reactions.

The silence that followed as their families read the cards was overwhelming, although Marcus' nieces did their best to break the quietness with excited giggles. The hardest part was over in the blink of an eye. Both sets of parents jumped up from their seats, the grandmothers crying as they clutched the sonogram pictures to their chests whilst the grandfathers loudly announced the news.

The crowd came to life and from that moment on, the whole evening turned into one big blur of happy tears, many hugs and well-wishes, and never-ending well-meant advice from Sally and Grace and every other parent in the room. And as yet another aunt of Marcus grabbed her shoulders and planted sloppy kisses on her cheeks, Katie had to admit how silly she’d been the last few weeks. They were two adults having a baby; they hadn’t done anything wrong for other people to get upset about.

However, the final push towards complete relief came when Michael approached her. For a minute, Katie had expected him to make a snide remark or even just walk by without paying any attention to her or Marcus and their announcement. Again, her fears didn’t come true. Where she’d expected an angry glare and a snub, Michael smiled broadly as soon as he set eyes on her and enveloped her in a bone-crushing hug. In that moment, Katie was the little girl again looking up to her big brother in admiration. His approval, his excitement for her meant more than the world to her.

“Congrats, Sissy. You’ll make a great Mum,” Michael whispered in her ear. It was enough for the weight she didn’t even know that she was carrying to fall off her shoulders.

Katie’s answer was nothing more than a messy blubbering against his chest, which grew louder when Eloise and her protruding belly joined the hug. Marcus, who had been too busy with accepting the felicitations to have heard the first interaction between brother and sister, turned on his heels the moment he heard Katie wail, his hand on his wand. Of all the things he’d expected, Boy Bell picking a fight had been the most realistic one, even though they’d been civil to each for the last few years.

“Happy tears,” Katie cried before Marcus could cast a hex. She gave Michael a little push in her boyfriend’s direction as she softly said, “Him too, for me?”

“Of course! I was planning to, Sissy.”

And that was how for the first time in their lives, Michael Bell and Marcus Flint had physical contact that was more than the odd handshake at family events or the fist to nose it had been during their Hogwarts years. Although Michael’s congratulations and sentiment that Marcus would make a good enough father were accepted with a scoff and eye-roll, the hug that followed was awkward. Cringeworthy, even for the onlookers, and didn’t last more than two seconds. At most.

To Katie, however, it was a dream come true.

As the first the excitement finally settled, the guests raised their goblets in honour of the soon-to-be-parents.

“To our Katie and Marcus,” said a teary-eyed Will as he wrapped his arm around Sally’s shoulders to keep her in place before she could hog Marcus again whilst wailing how fast her baby had grown up. “May the little one arrive in good health and magic. If there’s anything you need help with, all you need is ask. Or knowing your mothers, just accept it. It’s the, ah, it's the easiest way.”

“We bought a hovel yesterday,” Marcus blurted out, feeling encouraged by the earlier warm reception to share another significant change in their lives. “We’re moving.”

“You did what?” John asked, already imagining his daughter and grandbaby moving far away and Grace and Sally going mad as a bag of ferrets because of it.

“House,” Katie corrected Marcus. "It's a _house_."

“Yeah, yeah, that's what I said. A hovel.” Marcus flashed his father a smile and batted his lashes. “So, how fast can you turn a shack into a house? Maybe John can help too? We’d like to move in before she pops in September. We reckon it'd take you five months at most, yeah?”

Utter silence descended upon the room as John Bell and William Flint stared at them, their goblets still held in the air. Weren’t their fathers supposed to jump at the chance to help their kids out? Why the frowns? Why were his worried-looking brothers-in-law quietly sneaking out of the room? Marcus turned to Katie, who seemed just as puzzled at their fathers’ reaction, or the lack thereof.

“What? What did I say? Dad? Daddy?”


	21. The first time Marcus lost the most important match of his life. Not that he cared, he got back so much more in return. Part 1 of 2 of the end.

It was a warm Sunday morning in June when Marcus emerged in the front garden of his new house, surveying his surroundings with the hint of a smile on his face. John and his dad had completed thatching the roof earlier yesterday, and for the first time since buying it, the hovel he and Katie had bought months ago was starting to look more and more like a proper home. Of course, it also helped that the scaffolding his father had set up a few weeks ago to fool the Muggles down the street was taken down earlier that morning. The inside renovations were far from done, but it wasn’t a death-trap any longer either.

The smile on his face grew wider as his imagination ran away with him for a minute. He and Katie would take the large bedroom in the back that had a spectacular view of the forest and the sea behind it. The baby would sleep in the small room adjacent to theirs until he was old enough to be moved to the larger room at the front of the house. He’d put up a swing and slide in the garden where she could play, and when he was old enough, he'd teach him to fly a broom.

“Oh, bleeding hell, Pansy, that smell! What are you feeding her?”

Marcus’ smile widened, and he quickly turned on his heels. Across the street, behind the tall, dense shrubbery, was Katie. She and her friends had gathered at Alicia and Terence's new house whilst the men spent the Sunday helping Marcus with the renovations. The girls’ laughter and chatter had wafted through the air the whole morning, but the loud noise of working tools and his friends and brothers-in-law’s banter had drowned out most of it. Hearing Katie’s voice so clearly (changing the nappy of one of the babies by the sounds of it) without any background noise almost made him drop what he was doing and run across the street just to see her. He’d have to do without her for at least two weeks soon, and he wanted to spend and much time with her as possible since she couldn’t come to Brazil. It was ridiculous because although he wasn’t gone yet, he missed her already.

“We're breaking our backs inside, and you’re working on your tan?” Will asked, his tone not completely matching his gruff appearance.

Pulled from his musing, Marcus turned to his father.

Still smiling, Marcus shook his head. “Yeah, I’m comin’. Got distracted, s’all.”

Will wasn’t easily fooled, though. He examined Marcus for a long time and came to the conclusion that he didn’t like what he was seeing. He stalked towards his son to have a better look so he could report back to Sally. “You look knackered. Do you get enough sleep?”

Just a year ago, Marcus would’ve rolled his eyes and told his father to mind his own sodding business. These days, though, he had slowly begun to appreciate all that his parents had done for him and thinking back at his younger years, he wished he had been a better son to them. His father, specifically. So, he decided not to lie for a change.

“No, I haven’t slept properly since we found about the baby,” Marcus answered. He silently hoped that his father had good advice at the handy because like he always had because Marcus had to admit that he was in dire need of some. “I can’t stop worrying.”

Will’s expression softened and sensing what Marcus might need, he swiftly turned around and caught John’s eye, who coincidentally stood in the door opening. Will held up his hand, and as soon as John nodded in understanding, he put his on Marcus’ shoulder. “Come, let’s sit over there. The lads can do without us for a minute.”

Father and son sauntered to the stone steps leading street and sat down. From here, although they couldn’t see them, they could hear the girls more clearly. Their laughter was infectious, and Will found himself smiling along. He could understand that Marcus got distracted by it, but that wasn’t the issue, was it?

“What are you worried about?” he asked as he pulled Marcus back by the back of his shirt before he toppled down the steps, so hard he was craning neck to catch a glimpse.

Marcus first instinct was to shrug and pretend that he didn’t know what his father was one about. Then he changed his mind; he’d already taken the first step, after all. But where to begin? Thankfully, Will gave him an opening.

“Are you scared?” he asked. “You know we’ll look after Katie when you’re gone, don’t ya’? Not that she’ll let us. Besides, it’s just a few weeks tops. It’ll be over in a blink.”

“Thanks, but that’s not what worries me.” It had until a few seconds ago, but hearing his father reiterate that Katie would be taken care of in his absence made Marcus feel a bit better. “What if I muck up and the kid grows up to hate me?”

“Do you hate me?” asked Will as he studied his worn-out boots from between his knees. He had this conversation four times before and he still wasn’t sure if he wanted an honest answer or not.

Marcus frowned. What kind of a question was that? “No, why would I hate you?”

Will shrugged as relief coursed through him. Five out of his five kids didn’t hate him! He must have done something right, after all. “I’ve mucked up in various degrees with each of you, more with your sisters than you, though. I had a bit more practice by the time you came around. Nevertheless, I’ve made a few mistakes here and there, but you’ve turned out alright if I say so myself. A bit spoilt, but that’s your mum’s doing.”

“Oh.” Marcus frowned as he tried to recall where his father had made mistakes, but came up empty. “I can’t remember any of your mistakes.”

“Good, let’s keep it that way.” Will reckoned it was no use to bring up the past. “Nevertheless, I’ve made a few with you. Most of them small, and one or two big ones. Did you ever hate me?”

Marcus shrugged. If you had asked his fifteen-year-old self the answer might have been yes, he guessed. It was a good thing he wasn’t fifteen any longer. “Disliked sometimes.”

“Meh, that’s a part of the job, yours and mine.” Will nudged his son as he merrily laughed at his own joke. “My point is, don’t worry about cocking it up because you will. Not intentionally, but it’s just unavoidable. Just keep the baby alive and you’ll be okay. You’ll learn as you go until they stop listening and start living their own lives. Circle of life, and it starts with keeping them alive long enough.”

“It’s that easy, huh?”

“No, not yet, but once you reach my age and look back, you’ll think it was,” said Will honestly. “But that’s not all that you want to talk about, is it?”

Marcus didn’t answer immediately. Instead, he plucked the grass as he listened to Spinnet sing a lullaby to her baby. _Higgs_ Marcus corrected himself. Alicia Higgs, Terence Higgs, and now Danny Higgs. They sounded like a family, and Marcus wanted that too, so very much.

“The baby won’t be Flint,” he blurted out. “It’ll be a Bell because we aren’t married and Katie thinks it’s the funniest things she’s ever heard.”

Will stilled for a minute, remembering the heated discussions he had had with his own parents when Sally had first told him about the little accident that grew into Mary and the repercussions about not marrying in time. Then he shrugged. Times had changed since then; Katie's parents would never shun and disown their daughter for having a baby out of wedlock as Sally's would’ve done in their time. “So, what’s the fuss? You’re still the father; your name will be on the birth certificate.”

“I _know_ ,” Marcus said with a pout as he pulled out the grass more aggressively. “I know but it still doesn’t feel right. I can’t explain why.”

“Do something about it, then,” Will suggested airily. The way Marcus grimaced told him enough. “Or doesn’t she want to? Have you asked her at all?”

“No… I mean, what if she says no? What if she says yes?” Marcus warbled after a long silence. The creases in his forehead relaxed a bit when Katie’s laughter reached his ears again. He couldn't imagine life without her, even if she'd say no. Perhaps, his father was right, and he should talk to her. “You reckon she’ll say yes?”

“There’s only one way to find out,” Will said laughing as he patted Marcus’ shoulder. “Ask your mum about your great-grandma Flint’s rings. They’re yours if you want them. Ask Katie what she wants, tell her what’s bothering you. She’ll understand.”

Marcus scrunched up his nose, not sure if he should tell Katie that Christy’s jibes about their baby being born a Bell was getting on his nerves. That would never end well for him; they’d probably end up in a discussion about what was wrong with her name and him trying to take back his words. “I will, thanks, Dad.”

A few minutes later, Marcus and his father walked back to the cottage to put their renovation charms to good use. And although their conversation had moved from the more serious things in life to the upcoming World Championship and his part in the Welsh team, Marcus couldn’t completely let go of their earlier discussion.

The biggest challenge wasn’t asking Katie to be his wife, he concluded. No, the biggest challenge was to ask his mother about the rings without her telling everyone and their uncle about it. You know, just in case Katie said no.

***

Katie reckoned that it was her hormones that were making her sob her heart out. Dressed in only her bra and granny knickers because she was too damn hot all the time, she sat on the edge of the bed in her old room at her parents’ house, staring at her giant belly.

At seven months pregnant, she had lost to ability to see her feet or any other body part south of her belly. Angry red stretch marks run up and down the sides of her hips and breasts and as she traced them with her finger, she wailed harder. Even the knowledge that her mother’s self-made ointment would do away with them in a jiffy couldn’t console her.

“Katie?” Grace asked carefully from the door opening. John stood behind her, jumping up and down to see what was going on and if he could be of any help.

“Wot?” Katie hiccupped as she hastily wiped her cheeks with the back of her hand.

“Are you alright, sweetheart?” Grace took a tentative step into the room, John close on her heels.

“I’m as big as the Gringotts dragon!” Katie cried as she poked her belly, and John scurried out of the room as if the beast itself was hot on his heels.

“Coward,” Grace muttered under her breath as she shut the door. She rolled her shoulders and made her way to her daughter to console her. “No, you're not, love. You don’t look anything like a dragon.”

Katie stopped her sobbing and stared at her mother in exasperation. “I didn’t say I did, just that I’m big as one.”

“I know,” Grace laughed nervously, “Just checking if you were paying attention.”

“Yeah, right.” Katie sniffled, waiting for the tears to well up again so she could continue her sobbing. Nothing happened, which in turn made her feel sad because she could do with more sobbing. “I need more of that ointment.”

“I know,” Grace cooed as she grabbed Katie’s hand to stop her from tracing the marks. “I’ve already made two jars. I’ll make a new batch tomorrow. It should last you until the baby’s born.”

“Thank you, Mum,” mumbled Katie, hoping that a fresh batch of tears would well now. Nothing happened. Sighing in resignation, she rested her head on her mother’s shoulder. “Thank you for putting up with me. I’ll go home tomorrow, promise.”

“You’re welcome, love. Stay as long as you want, cry as hard as you want. We don’t mind.” Grace stroked Katie’s hair, smiling gently. It was true; she didn’t mind having Katie over. It was probably her last chance to mother over her daughter before she became a mum herself.

“I usually don’t cry that easily. It’s just…” Katie took a shuddering breath and hastily wiped her eyes. Stupid images of Marcus finding a beautiful Brazilian girl and leaving her and their baby or that he got lost in the jungle without his wand flashed before her eyes again. Ah, the sweet release of a good cry was near once again. “I miss him already. I know it’s stupid, but… but…”

Grace tutted when Katie burst out into tears and embraced her in a tight hug. They’d seen Marcus and the rest of the Welsh team off to Brazil early that morning at the Ministry’s International Portkey Department. Although Katie had been extraordinarily calm and collected during the goodbyes, Grace had known that it would be a matter of time before she broke down.

“He’ll be back before you know it, love,” Grace said in consolation. “And he promised to Floo-call you every night and talk to you until you fall asleep. It won’t be that bad, honest. C’mon now, sweetheart, dry your tears.”

“I know. I’m not bothered by that,” Katie cried. She pulled away from her mother and stared down her belly with teary eyes. The baby was kicking up a storm in there, almost as if she was trying to console her.

“What’s wrong, love?” Grace asked, more worried than before.

“He still hasn’t asked,” Katie muttered miserably, feeling sorry for herself.

“Marcus, you mean? Asked you what?”

“Christy always teases him about the baby being born a Bell and I thought he’d pick up on it and ask me.” Katie’s lip began quivering again as clasped her hands over her belly in hopes to calm the baby before he kicked her insides black and blue. “I thought it really upset him but I guess he was just playing along with Christy.”

“Ask you what, darling?” Grace bit her lips not to burst out into laughter. Some things never changed, thank Gods.

“Ask me to marry him. I wouldn’t mind either way, but still...It’d be nice.” Katie trailed off. She wouldn’t even need a fancy wedding or anything, as long he promised to be hers forever and never look at Brazilian girls. “I know we don’t _need_ to have the same name to be a family but it would be easier for others to recognise us as one. Not that I care about what others think, but still, it would be nice.”

Grace couldn’t hold her laughter for much longer and before she could stop herself, a hearty chuckle escaped. It grew merrier when Katie glowered, baring her teeth in anger in the way Grace had seen Marcus do when he’d been a wee boy. Oh how fast they’d grown up. “You’re leaving an awful lot open to interpretation, aren’t you? Poor boy, he must be so confused.”

“What d’you mean?” Katie snapped, offended that her mother would feel sorry for Marcus but not her.

“Have you talked to him about all of this?” Katie’s too careless shrug told Grace more than enough. “He’s not a Seer, love. If you want something, use your words, ask for it. Heavens, I’ve raised you to be a modern witch, to go after what you need and want. Honour your Muggle side for once and take charge like the strong woman you are.”

“What?” Katie couldn’t deny that somewhere a bell started ringing but she didn’t have the patience to figure her mother’s riddles out on her own. “What are you on about?”

“Why are you waiting for him to ask? Why don’t _you_ ask _him_ to marry you. I’ll bet he’ll say yes before you’re done asking.” Grace took Katie’s hands into hers. “Look, your Dad gave your Granny Bell’s rings to Micky because tradition says it should go to the eldest, and honestly, he asked for them first. But if you want, we’ll start our tradition. I still have my father’s rings. They’re yours if you want them. Ask Marcus to marry you with those.”

“I can do that?” Katie didn’t need to ponder too long over her mother’s suggestion, and as she rested her head on her shoulder, she felt a whole lot better. She’d never met her mother’s father, who had died in an accident just before her mum had started Hogwarts, only seen the faded photographs in the old albums. It sounded like a great way to honour the man. “I’d love to have them. What was his name again, Mum?”

“Lawrence,” Grace said wistfully. “Lawrence William, left us much too soon.”

Katie couldn’t help herself when another batch of tears welled up; she just felt so sorry that her mum and grandmother had to go through that at such a young age. It was one of her worst nightmares, losing Marcus for good, right before losing her baby.

“Mum?” Katie asked after a long silence. She wanted to tell her about the idea that had just popped up. An idea that began to sound more and more like a plan the longer she thought about it. But blurting it out like that wouldn’t do. She was going to take her mother’s advice to heart and use her words to discuss it with Marcus first when he Floo-called her tonight.

Grace cleared her throat a few times before she trusted her voice to sound unwavering. “Yes, love?”

“I’m hungry.”

***

Days and weeks passed and July steadily inched closer towards August. In Brazil, the Welsh National Team made it through the preliminary rounds without much trouble much to everyone’s surprise. Back in Britain, John Bell and William Flint put the finishing touches to the cottage whilst Katie began packing up everything she and Marcus owned. On the nights that Katie didn’t fall asleep right after supper, she and Marcus Floo-called until she did. And each conversation ended in the same way; with reassurances that it wouldn’t be long before Marcus would be home again.

Well, it took him longer than expected. Not only did the Welsh team make it through the preliminaries, but also through the quarterfinals. That meant their stay was extended with a week. Then they made it to the semis and another week was added. And no one was more surprised than the Welsh players themselves were when they miraculously enough won from titleholder Russia and made it to the finals where they had to face Argentina. A match Katie had vowed to follow on the Wireless but missed out on because she fell asleep within the first five minutes.

In the end, Argentina won the Quidditch World Championship that first day in August. Their Seeker caught the Snitch after three and a half hours of utter mayhem and finally put a stop the bloodshed on the pitch. Win or lose; it did not matter to Marcus. It was over; the torment was finally over. As he impatiently waited for his second-place medal whilst keeping a large cloth pressed to his broken nose and split brow to stop the bleeding, all he could think about was going home.

Poorly healed, tanned, and tired to the bone, Marcus finally made it to Tinworth in the middle of the night, less than three hours after losing the most important match in his life thus far. His legs felt wobbly from the international travel and his head hurt, and he reckoned he should've changed into clean clothes somewhere along the way, but none of those things mattered.

He was home.

Careful not to make too much noise and possibly startle Katie, he slowly made his way to the cottage. A weak light above head sprang on when he reached the back door, which opened without much trouble as soon as he laid his hand on the knob. Marcus reckoned he and Katie ought to have a chat about properly locking up before going to bed.

Moonlight streaming through the windows illuminated his path as he sneaked through the kitchen and halfway like a thief. It was enough to keep him from stumbling over the dozens of boxes littered all over the floor. Although he was glad that Katie had kept her promise and hadn't done too much on her own, he loathed the idea of going through those boxes and putting everything where they belonged. If there were one thing he'd do over, it would be paying better attention during Professor Flitwick's classes so he'd know what charms to use.

"No use to cry over spilt potion," he mumbled as he traipsed to the stairs, eager to see his Katie again. And the closer he came to her, to faster he climbed the stairs until he practically ran to their bedroom.

It was the unfamiliar tune playing on the Wireless that welcomed him first and her snoring second. As he quietly pushed the door open, he found her sprawled out on her back on the bed in a deep sleep, wearing nothing more than his old boxer shorts and a top that barely covered half of her belly. As Marcus inched closer, he noticed the dozens of Chocolate Frog wrappings and discarded cards on the bed. It was better than the apples covered in Dijon mustard she’d been fond of right before he left. Then he saw the jar of pickled green eggs on the bedside cupboard, and he wasn’t sure what was worse.

“Disgusting,” muttered Marcus when he came closer and saw that there were Chocolate Frogs inside the jar as well. Not that it mattered. The sight of Katie and her protruding belly made up for whatever nasty eating habit she’d picked since getting pregnant.

As quietly as he so he wouldn't wake Katie, Marcus undressed and climbed into bed. She’d complained that the baby was growing too fast for her too keep up, but now that he got to see it for himself, he had to admit that she hadn’t been exaggerating. She was huge, and with another seven weeks to go, he reckoned she'd only get bigger.

“That’s my big boy. You keep on growing, yeah?” whispered Marcus. Dying to feel her and their baby, he placed his hand on Katie’s belly. He didn’t feel anything but her hot skin at first, and then, just when he wanted to give up and crawl next to Katie, he felt it. A small flutter, barely noticeable at first but it steadily grew stronger and fiercer.

“Good girl, did you take good care of Mummy for me?” asked Marcus with a smile. The kicking didn’t ease up, it seemed to grow stronger. “I’m sure you’re gonna love her as much as I do when you decide to be born. She’s the best, trust me on that one, and she’s all ours. What d’you say we make that Christy woman shut up for once and for all?”

“Marcus?”

“Yeah?”

"Make her stop, it hurts," Katie murmured.

Marcus waited with bated breath for more. A part of him hoped that she had heard him so he’d have an opening to ask her to marry him. Nothing else came. Instead, Katie combed her fingers through his hair and slightly tugged, forcing him to come up to her level. As soon as he did, she turned her back and wriggled her bum until she lay comfortably against him.

“Are you awake?” asked Marcus when the silence lasted a bit too long. He would've understood if she’d fallen asleep again.

He could feel her nod as she pulled his arm around her waist up to her chest. Again, she didn’t say much when she began playing with his fingers, and Marcus reckoned that she was half-asleep. Perhaps it would do him go to do the same. He’d try again in the morning.

“Marcus?” asked Katie just as he was about to doze off, startling him. “I’m glad you’re back. I’ve missed you”.

“Missed you too.” Wide awake once again, he trailed kisses up and down her neck, hoping for another kind of welcome home. She didn’t seem too averse to the idea seeing she didn’t curse him out nor lodge her elbow into his stomach when he slid his hand underneath her shirt and cupped her breast. Merlin, some more of her wriggling her bum against his cock and he’d be done for tonight before he got his trousers off. Perhaps there was a light at the end of the tunnel as Pucey and Higgs had assured.

“Stop for a sec,” panted Katie just as he tugged at the elastic of her shorts. “I wanna ask you something.”

_No!_ Marcus wanted to bellow. They could talk later, ideally at breakfast because if it were up to him, the only talking they’d be doing all night was her telling him to go harder or faster. However, he wasn’t a complete tool. And as he dialled back his actions to kissing her neck and shoulder, he asked,

“What is it, love?”

Marcus didn’t think too much of it when she took his hand brought it to her chest. Nor did he catch on when she suddenly reached for something on the bedside table, almost ripping his arm out of its socket because she refused to let go of him. He just laughed against her skin when she began fidgeting with his fingers, hoping she’d suck them as she sometimes did. Only when something cold was pushed up around his finger, his laughter died. He pulled his hand back and stared at it in the dark. A ring, she put a ring on his finger.

“What the… What’s going on?”

Groaning and sighing, Katie turned to her other side in three tries until they lay face to face, giant belly pushing against a flat stomach. Her eyes were gleaming in the moonlight, and she wore a nervous smile that made him nervous in return.

“Remember when I told you about my grandfather Lawrence? My Mum’s Dad?” she began eventually.

Marcus grunted something unintelligible, glad that she couldn’t see his face in the dimly lit room. They had talked about many subjects the past month, and unless it had anything to do with her health, the baby, or the cottage, most of what she’d told him had not stuck. At all.

“The ring,’ Katie lightly tapped his hand, ‘belonged to him. It was his engagement ring. Mum gave it to me to give to you. So… yeah.”

“Why would you give it to me?” asked Marcus suspiciously.

“There is also a wedding ring; it’s yours too if you want it.” Katie took a deep breath and placed her hand on his stubbled cheek, trying to snuggle as close to him as her pregnant belly allowed. “I want us to be a family…”

“Yeah, we are a -”

“No,” she cut him off. “Let me talk before I lose my nerve, yeah? I’ve been thinking about this for the last month or two, and I know it's out of the blue and we should have a proper talk about it in the morning, but I can't wait that long. Let's get the hardest part over with, yeah? So…”

“So?”

“So, Marcus Flint, would you do me the honour of becoming my husband?” Katie asked solemnly, her voice thick with nerves.

“Wot?” He understood, of course, but wanted to ensure that he hadn’t misheard. And perhaps he had because Katie was scowling and he wasn’t sure if he’d said ‘wot’ or something else. The match had been quite brutal after all.

“Marry me, you knob,” Katie said as she flicked his nose. “Since you got me up the duff is the least you can do to make it up to me.”

Katie’s proposal was much more thought out and romantic compared to what he had in mind - toss her the box with the rings and tell her to think about it, which made him feel like an utter heel. Also, he was sure that it was out of the ordinary for a witch to ask a wizard to married them; his friends and Skeeter would never let him live it down. But in the end it came all to this; Katie wanted to be his wife without him needing to beg her for it. He’d be a fool to turn that down.

“Okay.” Marcus leant in to kiss her, which turned out to be a logistical nightmare until Katie got fed up with the awkward fumbling and took charge. She pushed him onto his back and straddled his lap.

Marcus felt like the luckiest man alive. First, he was proposed to and secondly, judging by the look on Katie's face, he was mere moments away from getting the proper welcome home he’d hoped for. Life just could not get any better than this.

“So,” he said between kisses, “When are we doing this then?”

“About that,’ Katie took off her top, abashedly smiling down on Marcus, ‘Don’t be upset, but I already gave notice at the Ministry’s register office when you were away. We’re getting married this Monday.”

“Monday, eh?” Marcus cupped her breasts, again in disbelief that she allowed him to do so without calling him every name in the book and in awe of how big they’d got since the last time he’d seen them. And just as he wondered if there was a way to make her tits stay this size after the baby was born, he remembered that Katie had confessed to something that still needed a reply. You’d think she’d distracted him on purpose.

Not that he minded.

“Monday is fine by me. Why wait?”


	22. The first steps into the rest of their lives. Part two of two of the end, meaning that this is it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A journey more than two years in the making comes to an end with this chapter. What started out as a one-shot for a challenge on FFN (Ch1 - - Big Brothers and Thunderstorms ended up as my submission in the end) turned into something I'd never intended. It wasn't an easy journey and more than once I wanted to pull the plug and forget I'd ever started it. However, I couldn't say goodbye to my babies then, and even now, I have a reluctance to end it because writing an unconditionally happy and fluffy story does wonders for your spirit, especially on those days when being happy feels like a chore.
> 
> Having said that, the word FIN remains at the end of the chapter. 
> 
> I will be editing the earlier chapters in the next few months to filter out my embarrassing mistakes. Maybe, I'll have a Beta take a look at it, I don't know yet. Also, there will be no epilogue, despite me having said so earlier. I'll think about (a) future take(s) once I've finished editing. I won't make any promises, though. However, I do have a bunch of written but unused chapters sitting around, or simply said: deleted scenes. I will be posting those on my [Livejournal](http://rosevalleynb.livejournal.com/). You don't need to have an account to read those. Just follow the tag ALOF. The first one is already posted.
> 
> Thank you for sticking with this story, leaving Kudos, bookmarking and/or subscribing. But most of all, my deepest gratitude to those who took the time out of their day to leave a comment. It means a lot to me.
> 
> I hope you enjoy this last chapter as much as I hated writing it (I may or may not have cried). Let me know if you liked it, hated it, or loved to hate it. :)
> 
> Be warned, major teeth-rotting, cringeworthy fluff ahead. As always, no shame whatsoever.
> 
> Ciao!

Like most young women, whether they be witches or Muggles, Katie too had grown up with a clear vision of her wedding day. Her memory was a bit hazy on the plans she had devised before going off to school, but she did remember that George Michael, as well as Simon Le Bon, had been involved somehow. As her future husbands, of course.

Then Katie had started Hogwarts, and her plans and her choice in groom had changed to a more attainable person when Oliver Wood had swept her off her feet. With him quite literally crashing into her life - - Katie had broken his fall on her very first day when he tripped on the stairs, he had become the man of her dreams. It was only a matter of time until he noticed her too.

He didn't, of course, but that didn't stop Katie from dreaming about Dumbledore marrying them in Westminster Abbey (real-life princesses had married their princes there, after all). Then they'd ride a carriage pulled by unicorns around London, and have a party in the Great Hall, with a ten-tier chocolate cake and The Wizard Sisters playing her favourite songs, Muggle and Magical. They would dance and kiss, and later, on their honeymoon, they'd snog each other silly and put their hands underneath their clothes.

All in all, pretty innocent dreams.

Until Katie was fifteen and Marcus Flint came home for Christmas from Portugal, that is. To this day, whenever she thought back at that moment, her cheeks heated up all over again. Back then, she had blamed her overheated body on her mum and the ten layers of clothing underneath her thick goose-down coat her mother had made her wear because of the Mumblemumps. But the truth was that something about Marcus Flint’s smile as he had watched his family pay a friendly game of Quidditch had messed with her teenage heart.

The fact that he got her a Christmas present that year did not help settle her raging hormones.

Suffice it to say, Marcus had replaced Oliver and by the time he’d returned to Wales for good a few years later, the dream wedding that had already been ten years in the making had grown even larger than before to befit a professional Quidditch couple.

Their fans would fill the streets, cheering them on and waving them off as a dragon-pulled carriage flew her and Marcus to their wedding location on a warm beach in the tropics. And after the ceremony officiated by the Queen, and the lavish party that followed right after with Muggle as well as Wizarding celebrities in attendance, they’d have the best sex ever known to man because every book she had read on the subject told her she would.

“Silly girl,” muttered Katie as she shifted a bit to alleviate the discomfort.

After two decades of dreaming and planning, her wedding day had finally arrived. It was a rainy Monday in August, and out of all her fantasies big and small, just one had come true that morning. She reckoned that her fifteen-year-old self would’ve had a fit if she’d been there. The quick ceremony at the dusty registrar’s office at the Ministry followed by lunch at her parents’ house wasn’t exactly how she had imagined her big day. There wasn’t even a honeymoon to look forward to because with two more weeks until her maternity leave finally kicked in, she had to go back to work the next morning.

“Too bad,” she said with a sigh. It would have been rad to spend a few days in Spain, or any other place than home, just to get away and have Marcus all for herself.

“You alright?”

Katie lazily lifted her head. She was lying on the sofa in her parents' living room. Her feet were on Marcus’ lap as Daniel, Alicia’s and Terence’s six-month-old son sat in her lap. The fluffy-haired boy had his ear pressed against her belly as he babbled unintelligibly to his future best friend. Tamsin, Micky and Eloise’s four-month-old daughter was asleep in the crook of her arm, blissfully unaware of the world around her. Around them, the women were running around to get lunch ready or minding the smaller children. Outside in the garden, the men were busy casting spell upon spell to ensure that the party tent would not get blown away by the heavy winds, and the ones that weren’t waving their wands, were busy offering useless but well-meant advice.

“Two then,” Katie muttered, long forgotten that someone had asked her something.

“Two what, love?”

That was enough to pull Katie from her musings. Sighing in contentment, she shifted her attention to the source of the questions. Behind her giant belly and the boy in her lap, Marcus looked at her in worry. Compared to her pale complexion, he looked even more tanned than he was. Spending a month under the Brazilian sun had done him good, she mused with a pang of jealousy. Her gaze wandered down to his hand on her bare feet, and her grandfather’s wedding ring on his finger and jealousy made way for another emotion.

It made her chest swell with pride.

“You’re mine now,” Katie said with a silly grin on her face. Her dirty mind wandered off to her secret wedding night fantasies and how she planned to make them come true tonight, giant belly or not. The rehearsal last night had almost gone according to plan, after all.

Her cheeks heated up, and before she could stop herself, she burst out into a fit of giggles, feeling fifteen all over again. Always the happy boy, Danny laughed along with her, clapping his hands so enthusiastically that he almost toppled off her lap.

“Yes, and you are mine,” said Marcus slowly as he steadied Danny. “Seriously, though, are you alright?”

“Yeah, I was just thinking.” Katie cuddled Tamsin closer when she began to stir. In the meantime, Daniel had slid down her legs to assist Marcus with rubbing her feet. Or rather, pull her toes to and force Marcus to do the same.

“What were you thinking about?”

“Wedding days and how different mine is to how I’d imagined it would be.”

“Oh? Good or bad different?” asked Marcus airily.

“Good different, of course. One, I married you, so the most important part is fulfilled. You’re stuck with us, Flint,” Katie said as she drummed her fingers on her belly. That was enough for Danny to abandon her toes and follow her example. “And two, our family and friends are here. What more could I want?”

“Food,” Marcus deadpanned.

“You’re damn right.” Katie clasped her hand over her mouth as she eyed her surroundings. Wedding day or not, Alicia would probably skin her alive for cursing around Daniel. When she was sure that no one else had heard, she quietly added, “The only reason I’m marrying you is your Mum’s cooking. I thought you knew.”

“Ah, yes, ours is true love,” Marcus said with a sigh. Then, after a few moments of silence, he asked, “So, no regrets about rushing it?”

Katie wriggled to reach his hand, but between not wanting to disturb Tamsin, her belly that stood in the way, and Daniel in her lap, she reckoned that she probably resembled a beetle stranded on its back. Thankfully, Marcus took pity on her and her struggles and met her halfway, pulling her up.

“Of course I don't regret it. It was my idea, remember?” She squeezed his hand to reinforce her statement and hoped that he believed her. Sitting up half-right wasn’t the most comfortable of positions to be in currently. “You?”

“Regret?” Marcus threw her a side-eyed glance, smirking. “Nope, saved me a few quid. What’s there to regret?”

“Sodding miser,” Katie grumbled as she flopped back down, “Ruining the tender and loving moment.”

“Yeah, but you still love me,” Marcus shot back cheekily. “Remember, you're stuck with me. You said it yourself.”

Glaring, Katie pretended to think it over. Then, she lifted her foot, toes wagging her toes.

“I love foot rubs, get to it husband of mine.”

***

Katie wished she could say that she enjoyed being pregnant. But between the around the clock morning sickness for the first few months and feeling like a stranded kelpie for the last two months, there had not been much time to enjoy or appreciate the fact that she was growing a person. And now, in the middle of September with less than two weeks left until her due date, Katie had decided she would not go through it a second time.

Not in a million years.

Everything hurt, from her toenails to the tip of her nose. Her skin felt as if it was stretched to its limits and there was still no end in sight to the expanding of her body. Not to mention the fact that she was always uncomfortable, and warm and tired and ready to rip someone’s bleeding head off for no other reason than that they weren’t up the duff like she was.

She hated that everyone around her seemed to or at least pretended to understand the struggle. It kept her from doling out a good old-fashioned tongue-lashing just to get it out of her system. But she couldn't do that when everybody was understanding and kind and ready to drop everything just to help her out when she needed them to, could she? Damn those arseholes for making her look like one.

“Stop doing that,” Katie grumbled as she pressed her palm against her belly. She was lying in bed on her side, listening to the monotone sound of rain against the windowpane in hopes it would help her fall asleep. No such luck of course. Between Marcus trying to raise the dead with his snoring and the baby kicking her black and blue on the inside, sleep did not come easily.

“Oww, dammit! Learn how to share!”

“You alright?” asked Marcus sleepily as he patted her hair.

“Yeah, yeah, just peachy perfect,” Katie snapped. “Go back to sleep.”

Jealousy coursed through her when less than five seconds later, Marcus’ snores reached her ears again. Bloody hell, she’d happily liquefy a litter of Crup pups just to sleep as deep as him for a few minutes.

“That goes for you as well, young lady. Sleep!”

Katie drummed her fingers on her belly, her way of sternly wagging her finger. It didn’t help, of course. Sometime in the last month, the baby had grown out of wriggling room, and instead of coming out like a sensible baby ought to do, their daughter just stayed put.

According to the midwife, the baby wasn’t ready just yet and needed some more time to grow. Katie wasn’t sure how much more their son could grow without her splitting in two to accommodate him. The worst part of it all, she needed to push the bugger out, something she did not look forward to.

“Oww,” Katie groaned into her pillow when suddenly a burning pain shot up her spine. This felt much different than the baby’s regular kicks, and for a second, Katie believed that she was going into labour. Was she supposed to wake Marcus now or when another contraction hit her?

Then again, what if it was a false alarm? He had to play tomorrow, and she’d hate for him to lose the first match of the season because she kept him up all night for nothing.

By the time she caught her breath, however, the pain was a distant memory, and she was not sure if she had imaged it in her sleep-deprived condition. That the baby had stopped moving about didn’t help ease her confusion. Katie waited a few minutes, sure that the endless wriggling and kicking would pick up again. Nothing happened, no movements and no pain or discomfort. Perhaps, she had fallen asleep earlier without noticing it. Perhaps, the pain had been a dream so real that it had woken her up.

Well, in that case, it was a good thing she hadn’t woken Marcus up in a panic.

“Go to sleep now, yeah? Mummy is knackered.”

Despite her regular complaints about it, Katie couldn’t help but feel a bit miffed when the baby didn’t kick back in acknowledgement. Sighing deeply, she shifted her focus to the alarm clock on the bedside table and started counting.

“One dragon, two dragons…”

***

Morning came far too fast for Katie. By the time the alarm blared, she felt even more exhausted than she'd felt before going to bed last night. Combined with the nagging pain in her lower back, she felt utterly miserable. It was almost as if the baby was dancing on her spine but without the actual dancing.

“What are you up to?” Katie asked with a groan as she pressed her palm against her back to ease some the discomfort. Just like a few hours before, however, the baby didn’t respond. No kicks, no tickling sensation, nothing.

Katie couldn’t remember the last time she had not felt anything. Was she supposed to worry or not? Floo-call Christy and ask, perhaps? But that meant getting out of bed first, something she couldn’t do without Marcus’ help.

“Are you alright, love?”

Speak of the devil.

Katie nodded as she took in the sight of him in the door opening. Having just showered, he only had a small towel wrapped around his waist that hid just enough to drive her hormones into overdrive. Droplets glistened on his tanned skin, the gift from Brazil that had not stopped giving. Muscles danced just beneath his skin as he dried his hair, and not for the first time, Katie wished that she was mobile enough to jump her husband’s bones. But for now, she’d also settle for getting out of bed by herself. Oh, and not have pain while trying to move, like now.

“Katie?”

She blinked a few times, surprised to see Marcus sit on his knees by the bed, frantically looking her up and down and peeping underneath the covers in worry. His mouth moved, and Katie realised that he was talking to her. “Wot?”

“Is it time?” he asked as he brushed the hair from her forehead. “How far are they apart? Do you want me to call your mum? My mum?”

“Why?” Although her lower back hurt, she swallowed the pain when she tried to get up so Marcus wouldn’t worry. Or come to ridiculous conclusions. Like he was doing now.

“You’re in labour,” he said, “Aren’t you?”

“No, it’s the Indian food we had yesterday,” Katie lied.

Not a complete lie, the chicken korma did not sit well with her. Never had, to be honest. Perhaps she ought to stop gorging on it. Besides, whether it was the chicken or not, as the expectant mother she was sure that she'd know if and when the baby was about to come out.

Right?

“Help me up, yeah? I need to use to loo and shower. I smell.”

Marcus studied her for what felt like a lifetime, clearly not believing the story she was spinning. For a few seconds, he even looked as if he wanted to argue with her. But, Katie’s urgent ‘I’m about to piss the bed’ was enough to make him bite his tongue.

“Do you want me to help you shower?” he asked as he helped her up. His brows furrowed when he noticed Katie panting and grimacing, and again he looked as if was ready to drag her to St Mungo’s.

Preferring to pretend that he was worrying over nothing, Katie eyed Marcus and his near-naked body. Didn’t Angie and Alicia once say that an orgasm could ease labour or something like that? Not that she was in labour, or having contractions or anything like that. But on the off-chance that a bit of close attention could ease her discomfort...

“Katie?”

Dammit, she was far too easily distracted lately.

“Yeah, sure, help. I need a, uh, a thorough washing…”

***

“Feeling better?” Marcus asked.

They were back in their bedroom after a long shower. Still naked, Katie sat on the edge of the bed with an equally naked Marcus on his knees between her legs, rubbing Grace’s special ointment on her belly. Now and then, his fingers brushed the underside of her breasts, the soft touch nearly driving her mad with want. The upside of being pregnant had turned out to be her hypersensitivity to his touch, and the long shower had done her good. Not that the back pain had lessened, but she felt a lot more relaxed than before.

“Much better,” she half-lied and closed her eyes as his hands gently cupped her engorged breasts.

He was getting more desperate with the day, she knew. Although for the last few weeks he had done everything in his might to keep her satisfied, she had not been able to return the favour. Every position they’d tried just became too uncomfortable after a few minutes, which brought her to the unfair downside of her pregnancy and perpetual randiness. The day that her body would be hers alone again so she and Marcus could properly strengthen their bond could not come soon enough.

“You’d tell me if something was wrong, wouldn’t you?” Marcus quietly asked as he rested his cheek on her belly. “I’ll stay with you if you want me to. Ruckus will understand.”

Katie combed her fingers through his wet hair, her heart ready to explode with the love she felt for him. But she’d be damned if he missed the first match of the season on her behalf. It was just a bit of back pain. Fine, her stomach felt tight and come to think of it, the pressure in her groyne might not be arousal after all.

“You heard what Christy said yesterday. He’s not ready to come out just yet. It’s the Indian food, honest.”

A part of her hoped that he’d insist on staying with her. In that case, she wouldn’t argue back, Katie decided. She’d tell him about last night and the back pain she was having now. And if he pressed hard enough, she’d tell him that she was scared because the baby hadn't moved since last night. Marcus didn’t argue with her, though.

“Fine…” he sighed. “Let’s get dressed, and I’ll make us breakfast.”

***

It was around four in the afternoon - - Marcus was upstairs getting ready when Katie was finally willing to admit to herself that there was a slight possibility that the contractions had started. However, with Marcus minutes away from going to work, she wasn’t sure how to bring the situation up to him after denying that something was wrong most of the day.

“Just a small kick will do just fine, love,” she mumbled worriedly. “Are you stuck or something?”

The only reaction she got was another contraction painful enough to take her breath away. Her eyes flitted to the grandfather clock above the mantle as her fingers tried to dig into the wooden tabletop and her face twisted in pain. Twelve minutes apart now, a minute less than before. Yeah, maybe it was time to pull her head out of arse and tell someone.

“I’m off, then,” Marcus said as he walked in.

Katie schooled her features and plastered a wide smile on her face when he narrowed his eyes at her. Angie’s labour had lasted more than two days, she told herself, and Eloise’s a day and a half. It would be a shame to keep Marcus home. There wasn’t much he could do anyway.

Gingerly, Katie stood up - -relieved to notice that the worst was over already, and accompanied him to the fireplace.

“Win this one for me,” she said as she kissed his cheek.

“It’s not too late,” Marcus tried for a final time as he cupped her face, searching for something. “Do you want me to stay home?”

“Oh, honestly, just go already! I’m fine.” Katie laughed as she pushed him off and grabbed the tin with Floo-powder on the mantle. “Go, shoo, kick Ollie’s arse for me!”

“But-”

“No,” Katie sternly interjected. “I'm all right, and even if I weren’t, Mum and Christy are a Floo-call away. Oh, and Alicia is across the street. Stop worrying.”

It was clear judging by his unamused expression that Marcus did not agree with her. He made a point of huffing and puffing and taking his time with tossing Floo-powder into her fireplace. When he couldn’t delay his departure for much longer, he begrudgingly kissed her goodbye and stepped into the fireplace. As the green flames grew taller around him, Katie wondered why he couldn’t read her mind and stay with her.

“I’ll see you tonight,” said Marcus just before the magic whisked him away.

Katie merely nodded and stood there for a long while, eyes lifted up to the clock above the mantle, waiting.

“Fuck,” she bit out when at the twelve-minute mark another contraction hit her, accompanied by a trickle of fluid down her leg.

She had either pissed herself, or her waters had broken. She wanted to kick herself for sending Marcus away. Why hadn't he trusted his gut instead of listening to her? Just as she rested her forehead against the mantle to breathe through the worst of the pain, someone came up from behind and enveloped her in a firm hug.

“S’okay, love, I’m here. You’re gonna be all right,” the woman whispered lovingly in Katie’s ear. That was followed by a boisterous, “You were right, Sal, Marcus does know what he’s talking about!”

Grace and Sally had come to the rescue.

***

Puddlemere United Stadium was filled up to the rafters with Quidditch fans. Numerous flags and banners in the colours of The Tutshill Tornadoes as well as Puddlemere waved in the harsh wind. The fans' singing and chanting carried for miles and left the inhabitants of a nearby Muggle village wondering where the strange noises were coming from. Not even the torrential downpour could temper the fans’ high spirits. As always, the very first match of the season was sold out; regardless of the team you supported, a whole summer without Quidditch was too much for any Quidditch fan. The first match was considered nothing more than a friendly game to get into the right mood for the rest of the season.

For the first time since he was old enough to understand Quidditch, Marcus did not care for any of it. As Ruckus thundered on with his motivational speech in the changing room, urging his team to forget about sportsmanship, Marcus’ mind was at home and Katie. It didn’t help that his mother still had not owled him like they’d agreed when he’d Floo-called her earlier that day when Katie had gone to the loo.

Having seen his sisters go into labour more times than he cared to recall, the tell-tale signs of early labour had not been lost on Marcus. He had been ready for it to happen since the baby had dropped a few days ago, even though Christy had been adamant that nothing would happen for at least another week. Sod the hag and what she thought because his gut told him that within the next day or so, their little bugger would be here. Now to convince Katie of that fact.

“Flint!”

Startled, Marcus tore his gaze from the tiled floor. He was surprised to see his teammates stare at him with wide grins on their faces. In contrast, Ruckus looked anything but amused. A short, stocky man, one of Puddlemere’s officials, stood next to him, nervously laughing as his eyes darted between Ruckus and Marcus.

“You like this a tad too much,” Ruckus grumbled at the man before he turned to Marcus. “You’re out, Flint.”

“What?” Marcus was sure that he must have missed a crucial part of the conversation because he didn’t understand why Ruckus would chuck him off the team like that. “I haven't done anything yet.”

“Wallace is playing. Merlin help us all.” Ruckus let out another deep sigh and stalked over to Marcus, clasping his hand on his shoulder. His lips curled up into a strained smile. It almost as if it physically hurt him to do so. “It’s time son. Go home to your wife. We’ll manage without you. Friendly match and all,” he added as an afterthought.

It took a few seconds for the news to settle, but when it did, Marcus jumped up to his feet and pushed Ruckus aside. As his teammates congratulated him, he followed the Puddlemere official to the nearest Floo connection. There was just one thing on his mind as they rushed down the corridor. He didn’t even hear the announcer broadcast the news in the stadium or the deafening cheers that followed soon after.

Only when the emerald flames engulfed him, and he had time to think for a few seconds, the nerves hit him like a stampeding herd of Hippogriffs.

He was about to become a _father_.

To repeat Ruckus’ words,

“Oh, Merlin help me.”

***

It was almost three in the morning when Marcus carefully descended the stairs. He was dead tired, obviously not as knackered as Katie was, but tired, nevertheless. If it had not been for the Wide-Eyed Potion his mother had made him drink, he probably would’ve collapsed hours ago. And now, with the potion long worn out, it was the adrenaline rush that kept him on his feet. That and the fear of accidentally dropping the bundle in his arms, his head would most likely end up on a silver platter if he did that.

“We made it,” Marcus said in relief when he stepped off the last step. He took a few seconds to calm his racing heart before heading off in the direction of the chatter.

He wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting as he slowly approached the living room. Their cottage had not seen this many visitors at the same time since the first stages of renovation. Unlike then, though, the men and women gathered tonight weren’t there to help fix the rundown house. They were there to welcome the newest Flint.

“There here for you,” he murmured as he peeked inside, not wanting the attention on him just yet.

John and William were playing wizarding chess in a corner. A gaggle of the younger children that had refused to go to sleep surrounded them, encouraging the older men and offering their unsolicited advice. His sisters were doing their best to keep everyone hydrated and fed, even at this time of night. Some things never changed, no matter how hard they complained about it sometimes.

Michael and Eloise were sitting on the sofa with Tamsin at the other side of the room. Unlike his father and John or anyone else in the room for that matter, Micky did not look relaxed at all. His knee nervously bopped up and down as Eloise whispered in his ear, her hand firmly on his arm to keep him right where he was.

Marcus chuckled when he remembered that Micky had been banned from St Mungo’s hours before Tamsin's birth. He'd got into an argument with a Healer about the less than competent care. Wands had been drawn, and nasty hexes were uttered by both sides before John and Ruckus had managed to tackle Micky and the Healer to the ground. Compared to his brother-in-law, Marcus reckoned that he had done quite well.

“What do you say, should we go in?” Marcus cooed quietly. A big yawn was the answer. “Yeah, you’re right. Let’s get this over with so we can go back to your mum.”

“Marcus!” Mary jumped up as soon as he set foot in the room and all but ran to him. Her sisters and Eloise were hot on her heels. Although the fathers and Micky managed not to appear quite so rushed as the women, they weren't too far behind either.

Lizzy was the first to reach Marcus. She grabbed him in a tight hug planted a loud smacker of a kiss on his cheek. “Oh, my, he’s perfect! You've done good, little brother.”

“You sound surprised. Of course, he’s perfect, he’s one of us,” Mary said as she snaked her arm around Marcus' waist. “Oh, look, he has more hair than any of us had.”

“He does look like Marcus, don't you think?” Lexie asked, peering over Lizzy's shoulder. Her eyes seemed to glaze over when she wistfully added, “You lot remember when he was this small? He was the sweetest little poppet ever.”

“He still is my little poppet,” Ellie cooed. She took advantage of the fact that Marcus had his hands full and pinched his cheeks as she blew him kisses. “Itty-bitty Marky is a daddy now. Congrats, little brother, he’s adorable.”

“Who says it’s a boy?” Emma asked as she jumped up and down to get a glimpse. “Grandpa said that Flints always have girls first. ”

“You’re right; we do.” Marcus smiled and winked at her, thankful for the opportunity she had provided. It was time to announce the news officially. “Everyone, meet my daughter, Lauren Grace Flint. She's a bit on the small side if you ask me, just over nine and a half pounds, but in good health.”

“Bloody hell, Marcus! You call that small?” Lizzy groaned, looking highly uncomfortable. The other women in the room nodded in agreement, some wincing, others crossing their knees. “It’s clear that you weren’t one doing the hard work.”

“Oi, I did my part. I put her in there, didn't I?” Marcus shot back laughing. “Nearly broke my back I was thrusting so hard.”

“Uncle Marcus!” Emma cried out, scandalised.

“What did he say?” Mary said, unimpressed by her daughter's prudishness. “It's biology, dear. Haven't I taught you anything?”

John cleared his throat loudly, his moustache twitching in annoyance. “Yes, well, that’s nice.”

Marcus bit his tongue before the banter with his sisters went too far and held Lauren out to him as a peace offering. His eyes momentarily flashed towards Will, who was standing right next to John, and he wasn't too sure who to hand Lauren over first. The two grandfathers faced off for several tense seconds, but Will took a tiny step back in the end.

“By all means,” he said selflessly, ignoring his daughters’ and Micky’s complaints that they had wanted to be the first one to hold the baby.

Carefully, Marcus handed the bundle to John, who beamed at the sleeping infant.

“Your sisters are right, son; she does look like you. A bit like Katie, too, though,” he mumbled as he intently studied the little girl. “I trust my girl is doing well?”

Marcus nodded. “She’s tired, but that’s to be expected. Everything went fine, don't worry. Grace is with Katie now, helping her wash up and dressed. Mum is helping Christy clean up the rest and sort out the healing potions. You can go up when they’re done.”

“Good, good.” John placed a tender kiss on the baby’s forehead before handing her over to an impatiently waiting Micky at Will’s urging.

As everyone huddled round Micky and Lauren, hoping that they'd be the next one to hold the baby, Will approached Marcus who had taken a few steps back. The two stood there in silence whilst everyone else's attention was on Lauren, who was meeting her cousin Tamsin for the first time.

“Congratulations, son, she’s beautiful,” William said seriously he patted Marcus' shoulder. “You’ll make a great father. I know you will.”

Maybe it was because the long day finally got to him, or for no other reason than that he needed to hear his dad have confidence in his abilities as a new dad. Whatever the reason was, Marcus pulled Will into a tight hug, savouring the temporary safety his father’s arms offered.

“Only because you taught me, dad.”

***

It was nearly eight in the morning when Marcus found himself in the rocking chair their bedroom, talking to Lauren. Delicious smells wafting through the air distracted him; someone was preparing breakfast to feed the small army that had gathered in his living room. He had even heard Alicia and Angie a few minutes ago, and that meant that Higgs and Montague were nearby as well.

The smartest thing to do would be to go down and eat a few bites with his family and friends, followed by a few hours of sleep. However, that meant that he would have to put Lauren in her crib or hand her over to someone else who wasn’t him or Katie for more than a few minutes, and he wasn’t ready for either just yet.

“Yeah, it's me,” Marcus cooed when Lauren, who had just woken up, slowly blinked at him in wonder. Her hair was stuck in dark wisps to her skull, her pink lips puckered. A sense of déjà vu hit Marcus, but he couldn’t quite place the memory. It was almost as if he'd been here before, holding Lauren.

“Your grandpa thinks I can do it, but I have no idea what I’m doing," Marcus continued his one-sided conversation. "But you and I will figure it out as we go, agreed? Just be patient with me.”

“What about me?”

Startled, Marcus looked up at the bed. Katie, puffy-eyed and with her hair sticking out in every direction, was watching him with a lazy smile. “Sorry, didn’t mean to wake you.”

“You didn’t, my tits did. They hurt like mad.” Katie’s smile faltered as she got a better look at Marcus. She threw the comforter back and patted the mattress. “Come here, you look like you can do with some kip.”

The idea to plop down in bed sounded very alluring, but the tender way she scooted over hadn't escaped him. What if he unintentionally hurt her? He could only imagine how sore she felt right now. “I can sleep on the floor if you want.”

“Yeah, that's a good one.” Katie smiled shyly at him, fidgeting with the hem of the comforter. “It's, uh- She needs to eat, or I’m gonna explode. I don’t wanna do it alone, I want you here.”

Smiling, Marcus nodded in understanding and got up from the rocking chair. It wasn’t a moment too soon because as soon he took a step towards Katie, Lauren began to stir. Her lips puckered, and she hungrily started to suck. When nothing filled her mouth, her little face twisted and barely audible cry escaped her.

“S’okay, sweetheart, Mummy is here.” Katie took over Lauren, cradling her close until Marcus finished stripping down to his pants and crawled into bed. As soon as he pulled the comforter up with him, Katie huddled closely to his side and pulled his arm over her shoulders, so they were warm and safe in their makeshift nest. "Here goes nothing," she muttered, her whole body trembling with nerves.

"You'll do fine, don't worry about it."

Marcus kissed her hair when she clumsily undid the buttons on her nightdress. He helped her support Lauren as she tried to feed her, and whispered words of encouragement and wiped away her tears of frustration when Lauren didn’t latch on the first few tries. And when she finally did, and Katie relaxed in his arms, he finally allowed himself to do so as well.

For the longest time, he intently watched them, his wife feeding their daughter, afraid that he’d miss something important if he blinked. But eventually, the exhaustion became too much, even for him. Right when he wanted to give in, Katie rested her cheek on his chest and temporarily chased away the desire to sleep.

She was humming her favourite tune, still as off-key as the first time he had heard it. And just like the first time he heard it, he didn't mind listening to it, listening to her. It was familiar, comforting, and every note of it represented Katie, and how much better and richer his life was with her in it.

“Love you,” he mumbled, trying hard not to doze off.

One of these days, he was going to find a wizard or witch talented enough to transfer the melody onto one of those silver records Katie liked to listen to.

“Love you too. Sleep now. We’ll be right here when you wake up.”

It was the last push Marcus needed. As he allowed himself to sink into deep slumber, he could think of only one thing.

Life was good.

* * *

 

**Fin**


End file.
